The Red Death
by Kanzen ne Tsuki
Summary: It is the year of the Bakumatsu...cries of 'The Red Death' echo in the streets of Kyoto, and fear stalks those who oppose the emergence of the Meji. Can one girl's bloody tears save the soul of the Damned?
1. Chapter 1

_**Author Notes/Disclaimers–**_

_Thank you to BelleDayNight for allowing me to borrow an idea from her outstanding fiction, 'Crimson Tears'. If you have not read it, it is one of her best. I highly recommend it. God Bless, me Belle. You are a beloved and wonderful friend. Thank-you for being there. You are ever in my thoughts. KnT_

_This is nothing like 'Bad Kid' or 'Black Hawke'. All cannon pairings, no shifting of characters to off-beat rolls. Seiguro Hiko remains the Thirteenth Master of the Hiten Mitsurugi Ryuu, and Kenshin's sensai. Saitou Hajime is the leader of the fourth squad of the Shinsingumi and the Wolf of Mibu, the Battousai's arch nemesis. Sanosuke may or maynot appear (I have not decided), but Shinomori Aoshi will. His presence will be out of context–I offer this warning now, although his character will remain the same. Misao will also be here as well–in the same manner as she is in the manga, etc. Myojin Yahiko is also going to be used... but, although his character will remain feisty and 'obnoxious', he is not going to be what you expect._

_This story takes place during the Bakumatsu in Kenshin's Battousai years. I have taken a wide liberty with Kaoru's placement in this story by putting her alive and at approximately the same age as the young hitokiri. Both are about sixteen or seventeen; adults by Japanese standards of the time (that is an important issue when it comes to marriage, sex, and public standing as an individual... both are considered well past the age of consent.). Kaoru still resides at the do-jo in Tokyo and it is post-the traumatic deaths of her parents, leaving her in charge of the school, where she is still a teacher of the Kamiya-Kassin Ryuu. There is no 'Tomoe' scenerio in this story. Kenshin will receive his 'cross' scar as a result of other painful issues. _

_This story is my version of what I think 'could have' happened if these two grief-stricken souls had crossed paths during a time of greatest upheaval and turmoil. It is a journey of pain, self-awareness–self-discovery, and ultimately forgiveness and love. But, as with all things in this life, no journey is ever as easy as it sounds... _

_**WARNING: Strong Angst, Graphic--Violence and murder, Heavy philosophical and emotional content, Occasional Lime Content (Warnings at Chapter Headers–No NC-17 content–Strong M rating), OOC situations/profiles for story content, Strong Language (No NC-17 content–Strong M rating).**_

_No review responses–Personal thanks to all my loyal and beloved reviewers/fans. God Bless to my second family. Every name will be posted in a broad, generous 'thank-you' at the end of every chapter. It is the best I can do and still abide by rules._

_I am posting the first two chapters together. It just seemed the right thing to do. They were born together... they should be read together._

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or the RK Characters; nor do I receive any kind of monetary gains from this, or any of the stories I have written. This is strictly done for my own pleasure and that of the dear readers who honor me with their patronage._

_**Kanzen ne Tsuki**_

_**Chapter I**_

_**The Red Death and His Blue Angel**_

_A flash of liquid steel._

_A splash of brilliant red._

_A cry, a sob, the chittering sound of a dying soul._

_And then... nothing._

_A white lily... dropped in a growing pool of blood._

_A black rose...laid in a lifeless palm._

_The quiet step of the Battousai._

_A silent Mantra to the dead._

She woke, screaming, clawing at the bedclothes, a cold sweat trickling between her breasts and down her face. The ebony satin of her hair was matted to her tear wet cheeks and her eyes were wild; disoriented and confused. Sitting upright on the futon, she threw the covers off and struggled to her knees, panting and gasping for breath; her hands clutching the front of her pale pink yukata.

'_He's killed again...' _Her slim shoulders began to shake as sobs shook the smallness of her frame. _'I can't take this... I can't... Kami-sama... I...' _She covered her face and cried, her sorrow and pain more than she could bear. It was the third night in a row she woke to visions of blood and flowers, but the torment had been haunting her for nigh on three years now. Almost since the beginning of the war.

Kaoru was afraid to go to sleep at night and usually only succumbed when fatigue carried her away. It was so long since she fell asleep to peaceful thoughts, she forgot what the sensation felt like.

As the horror passed, she grew quiet, pensive, wary. She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, pulling her knees up to her chest. There was always a strong sense of His presence left behind after the dreams; a feeling that He sat beside her, waiting for her to acknowledge their connection and bid Him a good-night. In the last year it became almost tangible, and she raised her white face and scanned her room, searching for the specter she never found, but somehow always knew was there.

"You can leave now," she said, the words sounding hollow in the silence. "Go home... leave me alone... this is enough for one night. Please, leave." Something shifted, moved, and fluttered across the room, leaving a cold chill in its wake as it slithered between the cracks of the fusuma. Tiny bumps leaped out all over her skin as the cold drifted back to crawl around her, enveloping her in icy arms that felt like death. "Please, leave me alone." She whispered, dragging the blankets around her shoulders, snuggling deep into the warm folds like a kitten searching for a safe haven from a storm, but the cold stayed.

The presence was gone, but the cold stayed. It always did.

She realized who He was one afternoon a little over a year back, while walking through the fish markets she heard some men talking. Their voices were low, hushed and frightened and normally she would have hurried past, giving them their privacy, but something one of them said made her stop.

'_It was the Red Death, I tell ya. That murdering demon's spawn is crawling all over Kyoto, killing anybody the Meji thinks is gettin' in their way. I know it was his sword that done the deed.'_

'_Shhhh, you baka! Are you insane? Don't be talkin' so loud. You don't know it was the Battousai's blade what killed that man... nobody does. Those bloody Imperialists got more than one manslayer, you know.'_

'_Hai, I do know. They found that cursed white lily in his blood, and a rose in his hand. Now you tell me it ain't the Red Death? You know as well as me that's his markers.'_

'_Kami... you sure about that? A rose AND a lily?'_

'_Hai, both. Just like all the others, and he cut the poor baka's head clean off just the same. Left it laying in the middle of some old lady's herb garden. Ruined the entire furrow–cursed it, you know. Can't heal people with herbs cursed in a dead man's blood...'_

'_A Buddhist Monk, you say?'_

'_Hai, rumors say he was smuggling for the Shinsingumi...'_

'_Smuggling what?'_

'_Don't know, but you can be sure of one thing now.'_

'_What's that?'_

'_Battousai's soul sure to burn in hell forever now... he's murdered a holy man.'_

She had stood, frozen to the ground, the memory of the monk's bloody demise vivid in her mind. Only, he hadn't been a monk. In reality he was Shinsengumi soldier disguised as a monk, but that hadn't eased his passing in the least. Even as he attempted to defend himself against the fury of the Battousai's blade, he never stood a chance at survival. The Red Death despatched him quite easily, leaving his marks behind before he left.

Of course, the Ishin allowed the people to believe the manslayer murdered an unarmed monk. It worked in their advantage. Kaoru went home and sat on her engowa, lost to the reality that she was bound in thought and spirit to the infamous Battousai. The Red Death of Kyoto.

O.O

The morning dawned bright; the sun rose high, turning the sky a bright blue. Birds filled the trees, and the cherry blossoms were beginning to show their colors. The courtyard at the dojo was full of flowerpots, seedling plants, new trees, and the garden even looked promising. Kaoru's hard work was showing and the number of paying students was gradually increasing.

She had five.

Two years earlier, her parents both died of illness, leaving her to keep the dojo running. It was difficult in these days of the Bakumatsu for a woman to be taken seriously as a Kendo Instructor, but Kaoru's father was a highly respected Sensai in Tokyo, and she used that to her advantage as much as possible. There were still people wanting to educate their children in the arts of defense and protection, and willing to pay for it. The Kamiya Kassin Ryuu was still considered to be one of the foremost styles in Japan, and since the Shinsengumi and the Inshin Shishi were everywhere these days, it was prudent to be able to protect ones self and ones family.

Kaoru stepped out of her room onto the dark-red wooden engowa, wearing a pale blue gi and white hakama. She stepped down and walked across the courtyard and stood looking at her garden. The vegetables would be ripening soon and she would be able to harvest some. Then she would be able to make her favorite miso soup, rice and carrots, and so many other things. She loved fresh vegetables. She smiled; it was hard to burn steamed food.

Breakfast for one was a simple matter; bread and tea. She was just finishing clean-up when her students started to arrive through the front gate.

"Ohayo, Kamiya-sensai."

"Ohayo, Takimo-chan." Kaoru greeted her first student. "It is a beautiful morning, ne?"

"Hai," the boy nodded, grinning into her beautiful face. "My Okaa says there will be lots of cherries this season. She is going to make wine..."

"That's nice," Kaoru wasn't really interested in hearing about Takimo's mother making wine. The woman sold it on the black market so her husband could buy katana's to sell to the Shinsengumi. That was supposed to keep them out of this park of Tokyo. So far it had, but Kaoru still didn't approve. It felt like aiding and abetting the enemy to her. Still, she wasn't all together certain 'who' the enemy was.

The Ishin Imperialist weren't much better.

Then there was Him. Her bloody hitokiri. _Battousai. _Kaoru shivered despite the warmth of the day. He was part of the Inshinshishi. An Imperialist; fighting for the Meji. She didn't know if that made him good or bad, but the dreams he sent her... the men he killed, the merciless of his sword; she didn't understand why he was attached her. What she did know was this: the very mention of his name inspired fear and panic. He was the Red Death, and he was part of her soul.

"Ohayo, Kamiya-sensai."

"Ohayo, Heidiki-chan."

One by one her students arrived and within the hour, she was drilling them through their morning katas. It was monotonous, it was familiar, it was safe. It was something she understood and it kept her mind off the things she didn't want to think about. It kept her from thinking about Him.

O.O

_slide swipe slide swipe slide swipe slide swipe_

The white cleaning cloth slipped up and down the gleaming blade, removing the blood and remnants of bone and fat that clung to the shimmering steel. It was a mundane task, but it was familiar, it was habitual. It was something he understood. It kept his mind in the present; kept it away from the disturbing images of blood that lingered on the edges of his consciousness. It kept him focused and calm; it was safe.

He could think about Her when he did this. When he flipped the blade over and the light caught the blue steel, he could almost see the flash of her eyes reflected on the mirrored surface. He didn't know how he knew her eyes were blue, but he did. They were bluer than the sky; bluer than sapphires; they were blue like his gi. Dark and stormy. Full of pain. Pain he put there. He wondered what they would look like if she was happy. _'Beautiful...'_

Her face was a mystery, but he knew if they ever met, he'd know her. Her eyes would give her away. They would be bottomless pools, and he would drown in them. He set his sword down and considered that. Drowning? Not a particularly difficult death, he thought, rubbing his chin. Silent, lonely... alone. It was a possibility should he survived the war and not perish by the sword. Hai, it was a possibility.

As an Ishin soldier, Sepukku was forbidden, so he was left with only so many options.

Wiping the flaming red hair out of his golden eyes, he stood and walked across the small room he called home, and opened a low cupboard. Retrieving a jug of sake' and a small cup, he returned to his tatami and sat down. He filled the cup and set the jug beside him. Taking a drink of the heavy alcohol, he closed his eyes and felt the burn as it slid down his throat and into his stomach. Somehow it always managed to remind him he was still alive... to some extent. Food never had the same effect. He could stare at a plate of sushi for hours and never eat a bite and feet the same as he did if he ate the entire thing. Food didn't matter. It never did. He ate because he had to.

It was an unwanted necessity... like breathing. Sometimes he wished he could stop doing both. If he could, he wouldn't have to kill anymore, and then the bloody memories would go away. But... if that happened, She would go away too. Perhaps, that was why he continued to eat... and breath. He couldn't let Her go.

It was a painful trade. Blood for Her, but it was one he was willing to make and for that he knew he was damned to the depths of Hell for all the Eternities.

He accepted that. For Her, he would accept that.

He picked up his sword and began polishing it again. His intuition told him he would have another mission soon. Not tonight, but soon. He needed to be ready. His golden eyes drifted across the room to the window and brushed over the potted plant growing there.

Black roses. His own creation. There would be another one in bloom within two days. That should be just enough time. He pulled the cloth over the edge of the blade one more time. It was perfect. It always was.

O.O

_Naitsuusha_Traitor

_His footsteps were hurried, like a rat running through the sewer, looking for a way out before the water got too high. The breath rasped through his teeth in little panicked gasps as he darted a glance over his shoulder, scanning the shadows behind him for any sign of movement. The hairs on the back of his neck told him someone or something was there, but he couldn't see anything... still... He pulled the front of his suit coat together over his round stomach and tried to button the edges, but it didn't quite reach. He opted for crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his chin into the collar, trying to gather as much of his own body heat as he could, while hiding his identity. It was a pitiful attempt._

_The faint scrapping of metal on cement sent him stumbling into the brick wall, gasping and trembling even as he spun around to face the emptiness of the street behind him. Little beads of sweat speckled his forehead and temples, some sliding down to fall off his chin and nose. He whimpered, his hands wiping at the moisture and then covering his face as his body shuddered. Never before had he felt such a terror, and for what? There was nothing there but the glimmer of the street lamps. Nothing..._

"_Coward," he berated himself savagely. "You're running from your own ass. What's the matter with you?"_

"_Perhaps you run from the ghost of your own guilt, Izura-san. Only a guilty man runs for fear on a starlit night..." the smooth, honey-sweet voice floated out of the darkness in front of him, and he whirled on unsteady feet, crying out in alarm. "I have been sent to ease you of that burden." The man froze and felt the warmth of his own urine slide down his legs as a youth of no more than sixteen or seventeen separated himself from the shadows, his dark blue gi black in the dim light, but the flaming red of his hair was unmistakable. Golden eyes promised him a quick death._

"_B-battousaiii..." _

_The youth became a blur, then there was a flash of silver, a spray of red, and the man crumpled, his head rolling into the gutter. Blood quickly pooled beneath the open arteries of his throat, and a fragile white lily fell to float elegantly on the growing pond._

"_Could you not even attempt to die bravely, you pathetic Naitsuusha?" The youth carefully opened one of the dead man's palms and then, reaching inside his gi, produced a black rose to lay inside the limp fingers. "May your soul burn in the deepest Hell, Naitsuusha... perhaps I will see you there one day."_

Once more, she sat up in her bed, screaming and sobbing. Tears streaked her face as she grabbed her head, pulling her hair, trying to make the vision stop; trying to make the blood stop. The sightless eyes of the man's head stared at her, the look of terrified surprise on his face forever frozen in her mind. It was too much, Kaoru stumbled from her futon and ran out of her room into the night. The frantic puffs of her breath creating little steam clouds in the cold.

"Stop it!" She sobbed, shaking her fists at the misty moon. "Stop this! I can't stand anymore! Do you hear me? I can't stand it!" She fell to her knees and curled into a ball around herself, crying, rocking back and forth, arms wrapped around her knees. "Please, stop..."

'_I can't...'_

The voice drifted into her conscious mind and she jerked up, eyes wide and frightened. Had she really heard...

'_I want... I... I can't...'_

"Please," she whispered, feeling a strange coldness slide over her face; a cold she never felt before. Icy fingers smoothed over her skin, tracing the arching wing of her eyebrow with a tender, sweeping touch. "Please," she begged. "It hurts so much..."

'_I... can't... it's the only way... the only way...'_

"What? The only way what?" The fingers feathered over her lips and she shivered, finding herself leaning into the touch despite the freezing cold. "Tell me," she whimpered. "The only way for what?"

'_For me to be with you... to feel you... to-to touch you...'_

"Nooo..." she sobbed. "Kami-sama... no..." She lifted a trembling hand, laying it along the cold flesh of her cheek, feeling the mixture of her warmth and his frozen touch combine on her skin. "You can't..."

'_Love you... my Angel... my Blue Angel...'_

"B-battousai?" The cold started to dissipate and Kaoru reached for it, suddenly anxious and unwilling to let it leave. "Is this you?" she asked, desperate to know the truth, yet terrified to discover the answer. "Are you here?"

'_Hai,' _the cold came back and traced the moist path of her tears over one pale cheek, then touched her lips again. _'I am the Red Death... I am the lover of your soul... my Saiai-Angel... you are my reason to live... my beautiful, my precious, my Blue Angel.' _As the icy fingers left her, a great emptiness filled her spirit, and Kaoru collapsed into herself, crying as if her world had just been torn to shreds and could never be repaired.

She was the soul mate of the Battousai.

Pain lanced through the core of her spiritual being as the hands of her heart felt the almost physical touch of her lover's kiss inside each palm. She wanted to die.

O.O

He sat gazing with dispassionate interest out his one window, his sword held securely against one shoulder. The view was second story and looked over a part of Kyoto that had not yet been touched by the war. The buildings were still intact and no fires burned, no strings of Ishin soldiers and their torches roamed the streets on their 'patrols' looking for 'criminals', and there weren't the endless cries and screams he heard when he stayed closer to the city center. It was quiet here. It was better. He didn't dream as much here. He could be calm. He could think about Her.

The connection with Her last night was intense. Stronger than any of the others and it disturbed him. He felt her tears, her pain, her fear; all of the terror and rejection in her soul, and it was directed at him. He was aware of her fear for him, but he was not aware of how strong it was until now, and with that understanding came a disturbing realization. His connection to her was driving her mad.

He also understood that he loved her. That was not known to him before. He hadn't known he was capable of loving anything, not until he'd reached across the ethereal plane and touched her soul. What magnificence that was, feeling the very essence of her being. Such light, such energy; She was the most pure thing he could remember ever being close to, and the need to protect her was stronger than his loyalty to the Ishin. But he didn't know how to protect Her. He didn't even know where She was, nor how to find her.

A deep feeling of despair settled inside his heart, and he crawled out of his window, climbing up onto the roof. There he sat gazing at the stars and the half moon, the phrase of poem running through his mind over and over.

_**The bluest sky is crystal clear,**_

_**and infinitely high**_

It was something one of his old sensai taught him as a means to find clarity when his thoughts became troubled. Tonight he let it slip through his consciousness, trying to find the means to bring peace to his beloved Blue Angel. How could he set her free without destroying himself in the process? She was his only link to sanity, and without her melded to his ki, he had no doubts he would lose what humanity he possessed to the madness of the hitokiri's bloodlusts. It was a selfish thought, but he knew he would never be able to give her up. She was all he had.

She was the lover of his soul.

She was his Sanctuary.

She was his Angel.

He bowed his head and asked Kami-sama to forgive him. He couldn't set her free. Not until the day he gave up his ghost to the next world. He prayed she would find it within her heart to forgive him as well. He wished he could cry, but his eyes were dry. Inside, his soul cried for him.

O.O

She woke for the second time that night, to the sounds of her own sobbing cries. No dreams, no nightmarish visions filled her mind, but her heart felt as though it were tearing itself to bloody shreds. Heartache, raw and unforgiving clenched around her emotions, wringing every last quivering ounce of pain from her possible, until her voice was no more than a raspy scratch in her throat.

It was His pain she felt. A pain so terrible she couldn't understand how he lived with it. How did he go forward into his life everyday with such agony burning in the hollows of his heart and soul? It ate at her most vital energies, draining the essence of her strength and light until she felt weak... empty... finished.

She struggled to her feet and stumbled, swaying back and forth across the room to a small table holding a pitcher of water, wash basin, and towels. Pouring a small portion of water into the basin, she dipped a cloth into it and tried to wipe her face with trembling hands. Reaching out to dip the cloth a second time, Kaoru froze, her eyes staring in shocked horror at the swirl of red leaching out into the water.

Her face was covered with blood; she was cleaning the residue of bloody tears from her ravaged cheeks. It was matted in her hair, caked in her eyelashes, and when she looked further, it stained her yukata and bed clothes.

As quick as she could, she gathered clean clothes and slipped out to the bath house, lit a fire to heat the water, and waited. When steam started to rise from the tub, she slipped out of her soiled yukata and climbed into the water. The heat immediately invaded her frozen muscles and aching bones, and she sighed, sliding down as far as she could.

The blood seeped away as she washed her hair and skin, and when she stepped out of the bath, the water was pink. Shivering with the added cold of being wet and nude, she hurried to dry off and redress, then she ran back to her room and stripped the bloody bedding off her futon. She found clean linens and quilts in the storage closet next to her room and remade her bed. By the time she was done, the sky was starting to turn pale pinks and lavenders. It was practically time to get up.

Kaoru went back to bed regardless. She felt as though she was awake more that night than she slept. Her students would just have to wait a little longer for their lessons today. She needed to get some sleep, or she would be no good to them at all.

As her eyes closed, the knowledge that she now harbored his pain inside of her soul weighed heavy on her heart. Compassion and sympathy were natural gifts she inherited from her mother... but did she have it within her to feel them for this... this man? She cried his tears for him. Tears of blood for a manslayer? She supposed it was fitting, after all, was his life not baptized in the blood of his victims?

She fell asleep trying to remember how gentle his icy touch on her lips had been. It was a much more pleasant thought than the one that woke her up.

TBC O.O


	2. Another Bloody Nightmare

_**Disclaimer:**I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or the RK Characters; nor do I receive any kind of monetary gains from this, or any of the stories I have written. This is strictly done for my own pleasure and that of the dear readers who honor me with their patronage._

_**WARNING: Graphic violence/murder**_

_**Chapter II**_

_**Another Bloody Nightmare**_

_Fragile is the pigment of dreams,_

_Brilliant the blush of a spattering of blood,_

_yet the body of a scream carries no decoration,_

_nor does it bear form or grace._

_The killing stroke of the Assassin's blade,_

_and silence reigns beneath the stars,_

_glimmering down upon flat eyes that will never shine again._

_The soul's white light is swallowed by the blackness of doom,_

_and Death heralds the discourse of a Life interrupted._

_Murder so quiet... walks away on human feet._

She sent her students home early. Her mind just wasn't on training. Something cold and anxious was gnawing at her... perhaps, persistent was a better description of the sensation, whichever, Kaoru couldn't seem to detach herself from the nibbling jaws, and she finally gave up trying to concentrate. It was a hopeless and fruitless attempt at best.

The day dragged on, slower than any she could remember for some time. Cleaning the dojo and the kitchen did nothing to alleviate her disturbed emotional state, so she turned to her garden. The weeds were starting to overrun the fragile plants and her attention was sorely needed to rid the offensive overgrowth before it damaged her pending harvest. Still, she could not keep her thoughts centered on her task, and soon discovered herself sitting with her hands folded in her lap, her eyes staring blank into the distance.

Kaoru gave herself a firm shake, and forced her sluggish limbs back to work, trying not to dwell on the fact that her mind was filled with visions of darkness, red hair, and golden eyes. He was prowling the streets somewhere... she could feel his feet padding along the sidewalks, taking him silently through the shadows of some city or village... unseen... unnoticed... He was hunting; her senses were as highly attuned as his, and she detected every nuance of his heartbeat, his breathing, and the energy he exerted to mask his ki.

He was ghost. A tiger stalking his prey through the tall grasses... hidden... slipping past innocent eyes on his way to a kill. But he was angry... worried? The icy fingers of his fury played across the harmonious strings of her heart like a master musician, and she shuddered.

Kaoru was worried too. The sun was just barely above the horizon. There was at least another hour before it set. He had never gone out on a kill this early before. Surely someone would see him... wouldn't they? Maybe... maybe _he_ would be killed this time. Once more the idea of her Red Demon dying wrenched through her, doubling her over in terrible pain, and it in that moment it occurred to her, if he died, would she die too?

Another black envelope was slipped under his door. He could see the corner of it sticking out, just enough to be seen. His dark reddish-brown eyebrows furrowed as he knelt and opened the fusuma to pick it up. It was hardly five days since his last mission. He was hoping to go longer this time since his last mission left his Angel in such a terrible state of distress. This was too soon.

"Kuso!" He swore, entering his room, closing the door behind him. "Damn you, Katsura." Striding to his tatami, he sat down and opened the envelope, pulling the red note free. The script read clearly and was simply stated.

_Your next target is Byojin Ryoko. He is the owner of a printing shop on the lower east side of the city. It has come to our attention he is publishing propaganda against the Imperialists and must be neutralized before he causes more difficulties. You can find him at the Red Dragon Inn every night between seven o'clock and nine o'clock. You will know him by his green printers apron. He always wears it. Do not fail me._

_Katsura_

"A printer?" Battousai snorted and tossed the note and envelope aside with a disgusted twist of his wrist. "Aren't we reaching now, Katsura?" His eyes glittered with contempt. "How can a man who only prints words really effect whether or not the Imperialists achieve power in the government? What exactly is he printing? Dirty stories about the High Secretary?" This was beneath his level of skill and stature as a hitokiri. It should have been given to one of the lessor assassins. He loosed an angry sigh. There was nothing to do about it now, but he felt slighted nonetheless.

Checking the time, he saw it was close to six o'clock. He would have to hurry if he was going to make it to the Red Dragon by seven. It was at least an hours walk. He would have to eat something later after he was finished. A feral growl crawled out of his throat as he left his room. The expression on his face was cold and unflinching, his steps fluid and determined, and everyone who saw him coming moved out of his way, letting him pass unhindered.

Once he reached the streets, he took to the shadows and melted into obscurity, passing people without raising so much as an eyebrow. The small, petite red-head did not appear threatening at first glance. Rather, many passed him over for a young girl with his fair looks and long flowing hair. Little did they know how close they were to the most terrifying legend in Japan. It would take looking into his face to truly understand 'what' he was... only then would they feel the chill of his presence, and discover the need to be as far away from him as possible. He, on the other hand, would not even give them a cursory glance. That is how little the dregs of humanity effected Battousai. They were little more than insects... an annoyance at best, and he ignored them as such.

He reached the Red Dragon in a little more than an hour, and slipped through the front door without notice. Standing in the dimness of a corner, he surveyed the packed room, looking for a man wearing a green, ink stained apron. It took only a few moments for him to find the man, he was at a table next to the far window, drinking sake', a full bottle on his table. He was alone.

Battousai smirked. They were always alone.

He left the tavern and found a dark, quiet place outside to wait, hoping he wouldn't have to wait long. His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten since breakfast.

She was dressed in a plain green yukata and slippers. Her hair was loose, hanging over one shoulder in a silky rope of obsidian. She was sitting on the edge of the engowa, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, waiting. It wouldn't be long now, she knew it wouldn't.

His heart beat steady--slow and strong. His hand rested on the hilt of his katana; comfortable, long-practiced, easy. He was ready, watching, waiting... It would happen soon... there was nothing she could do to prevent it. Nothing. He would kill again, despite his anger and bruised pride. He would still carry out his orders and perform his duty to the Imperialists who puppeteered the movements of his sword... and she would see every bloody detail as if she stood at his side.

Then he would come to her... come... for what? Forgiveness? Absolution? She didn't know why he came. He said he loved her, but what was love to a manslayer?

A cold breeze picked up the loose tendrils of hair around her face and tossed them about her eyes; some clung to her lips and lashes, she wiped them away. Her breath turned to steam and she shivered as his icy touch slithered around her. She almost heard the 'click' of his thumb unlocking his blade from its sheath, then felt the muscles bunch and flex in his arms as he pulled the katana free, swinging it into motion-ready for the kill...

It was beginning.

She closed her eyes and tucked her chin to her chest and prayed it would be over soon.

_Naitsuusha--traitor Oni--demon_

'_Hiten Mitsurugi Ryo Shou Sen!' _

_He barely had time to register that there was another human being in the same proximity with him before a burning pain erupted in his shoulder and he stumbled, falling to the ground. A terrible moaning sound filled the night air, and as he reached up to feel the bloodied fabric of his gi, he realized he was the one making it. Surprise and fear mingled inside his heart. There was a through and through wound in his left shoulder, just below the collarbone, and he was bleeding profusely. It had happened so fast, he didn't even see his attacker, but now he raised his head and tried to see into the shadows._

"_Who is there?"_

"_Judgement for your sins, Naitsuusha." The voice was rich, almost cultured, but it lacked any warmth or compassion. It was almost cruel with its absence of emotion, as if taking life were no more arduous than catching and cleaning fish. "You have been found guilty of treason against the new Imperialist Government, Byojin Ryoko-san, and you will pay for that with your life."_

"_T-treason?" He coughed, spitting up blood. "What treason do you speak of, Assassin... I have committed no such treason." _

"_You are a Naitsuusha, Byojin-san. You print dangerous propaganda that damages the minds of our citizens..." _

"_Propaganda?" He scoffed at the assassin. "I have done nothing but voice the words of a repressed people... the peasants and farmers who suffer the most from this 'peaceful government' the Imperialists would push upon us. Is your precious government afraid of the words from one man that they would dispatch one of their assassins to silence him?" He glared into the shadows from where the disembodied voice drifted, and growled, rebellious despite his wound. "They promise us a future with no bloodshed, yet our land is stained red with it... where is this world of peace, Assassin? Do you offer it to me with the edge of your sword?"_

_The voice in the shadows turned hard, icy, unforgiving as it spoke. The distant neutrality that chastised him before was gentle compared to the crushing force that bore down upon his soul now. "Peace is not won by the sword, Byojin-san, nor is it won by the hateful and corrupt words of one individual. Peace is won by the men who fight to destroy the oppression of those who would subjugate the freedom of the farmer to enjoy the profits of his own lands. People like you..." the voice lashed out like a frozen whip, striping his flesh, laying it open to the razor sharp words. "People who create dissent and chaos with half truths and explosive suggestions designed to cause malcontent. It is people like you who keep this land bleeding, and you must be silenced for the greater good."_

"_You may think to oppress me, Imperialist..." he sneered. "You may believe that by taking my life you will silence my words, but you are wrong. The truth can never be silenced. It will always manifest itself in whatever form it deems necessary. I was its vessel for a time, and when I am gone, another will be chosen. My death will not stay its progress, iie, it will only hinder it for a short time. So, do what you must, but know this... you kill nothing more than a messenger."_

"_Messenger, eh? If this is so, tell me, what truth is it you carry, Printer? I see no truth in you words, only the seeds of dissension planted from a traitors lies."_

"_You ask for the truth, Imperialist? This is the truth... you believe you are working for a unified Japan, but you aren't. Can't you see that you are simply forcing our people to trade one world of chaos and tyranny for another? There can never be a single government ruling one nation... only the Emperor and his Damiyas have been able to maintain law in this land. You are Samurai... you should know this... you were trained to uphold the honor of your Damiya." There was a subtle shift in the air, and he gasped as a boy with blazing red hair stepped from the shadows, his glittering amber eyes burning holes through the night._

"_Iie, Naitsuusha, I was not raised on these beliefs you so vehemently speak of... the only "Damiya I remember is the dishonorable man who sold the child I was as a slave after my family died of the plague... I was not reared by Samurai nor was I taught their beliefs. My Master was a proud and honorable man who believed in the Will of a Man's Soul and the strength of his mind. I do not believe in the old ways anymore. They brought only heartache and war upon our people as the Samurai argued among themselves for power and what they believed was honor... now, we fight for peace, for a world without bloodshed, without domination, where people may enjoy the fruits of their own labors... where they may raise a family and benefit from their own labors..."_

"_Then you are a hypocrite, boy, for you have shed more blood upon this land than any other." He spat, his dark eyes malicious. "You are the Battousai. You are a disgrace to your sword and whatever Honorable Code your Master may have taught you... you disgrace your Sensai and his way of the sword. I name you, Oni, and I condemn you to the lowest depths of hell for your crimes. You are right... you are no Samurai. You are an abomination without honor. Kill me now so I may not have to see your face anymore... you disgust me."_

"_As you wish, Naitsuusha..." _

_For a split second, he saw the glint of fine steel capture and reflect the pure light of the moon, and then a searing pain bit into his neck. White starbursts exploded in front of his eyes, he tried to gasp one last breath, but his head was already dropping to the ground, blood spouting from the severed vessels in his throat. He was dead, barely aware he'd been alive._

_No sound heralded his passing, not even the quiet padding of feet as his killer departed. Only the chilled breeze sifting through the fine hairs on his right temple belied any movement across the macabre scene. His eyes stared up at the stars, flat as a fish out of water._

The essence of cold intensified as He drifted across the courtyard and settled next to her on the engowa. Kaoru trembled and wiped the tears off her face. One more bloody memory filed away inside her mind; just one among a hundred or more. She lifted her head and looked skyward at the stars. They shimmered and winked like dragon eyes.

"I know you're here," she murmured, her voice small as baby breath. "Why must you always come? Why must you seek me out?"

'_...love... hope...' _

"There is no hope," she shook her head and raised tear filled eyes to the starry sky. "There is only death where you are."

'_...and life with you...'_

She felt the chilled touch of his finger trace the line of her cheek, and a tear escaped the corner of her eye. A sob broke in her throat and she huddled closer inside the blanket. "Please, go away." She pleaded. "I-I want you to go now."

'_...forgive me...' _

The icy finger brushed over her trembling lips and then he was gone. "Kami-sama," Kaoru buried her face in her hands and cried, wetness leaking through her fingers. "Help me..." She struggled to her feet and stumbled back to her room, pulling the fusuma closed behind her. Burrowing deep inside the blankets and quilts on her futon, she tried to block out the vision of the Printer's murder, and found herself left with the wispy memories of her lover's words and tender, icy touch. A cascade of violent shivers shook her frail body, and she clutched at the rumpled bedding, a shuddering, blasphemy tumbling from her quivering lips.

"I... I wish you were dead..."

_The warm fragrance of Spring blows over a field of green,_

_Rice, waves a heavy-headed rhythm, _

_bowing to the easterly breezes._

_Children's laughter rings musical beneath the Sakura trees,_

_rushing water falls from the pinnacle,_

_a rainbow of color splashing in waves against the rocks below._

_Innocence lives and grows alongside the sprouting harvest,_

_a promise for the future,_

_a hope for the renewal of the World._

_But Innocence, Promises, and Hope are only wisps,_

_fragile as cobwebs,_

_elusive as a virgin's dreams._

_They are lies whispered on the frozen winds of ill will,_

_they rot in the bellies of the dead,_

_and fade into the obscurity of Hell's embrace._

_The day Innocence dies,_

_the World ceases to Hope,_

_and there are no more Promises to make..._

_Grief and Death are born of such things._

He lay on his back, the comfort of the futon beneath him lost in deference to his state of preoccupation. Each night his connection to Her grew stronger. Soon he believed he might be able to see her face... perhaps. He could smell the scents of her perfume, the soap she used to wash her skin, even her sweat. The texture of her smooth, petal soft cheek was an almost reality to him, and he rubbed his fingers together trying to bring the sensation back, trying to recall how it felt when his soul touched her face and lips. _'So close...' _he thought. _'She's so close, yet...' _A frustrated groan squeezed his chest and he slammed his fist into the mattress under him. _'She may as well be part of infinity.' _He'd never touch Her.

_Anxiety. Guilt. Remorse. Fear? _All were emotions he thought were long left behind him, but it seemed he was mistaken. A weakness long forgotten in the age of a little boy named, Shinta, had come back to haunt him. A weakness named, _Grief. Loss. Loneliness..._

He'd frightened her... horrified her. He felt it when her soul recoiled from his touch, shunning him, sobbing like a child and bleeding from a thousand tiny wounds. Wounds he created by continuing to bind himself to her. He'd seen the despair and futility in her eyes... those beautiful blue lanterns of pure light that had wept blood for him the night his soul cried. In his selfishness, he reached out for her warmth and hid his tortured heart inside the softness of her breasts and let her bear his pain, even if it was only for a moment.

'_What sort of beast am I?' _He threw an arm over his eyes and blocked out the blank vision of the ceiling over his head. _'Isn't it I who is meant to protect her? Shouldn't my sword keep the demons from devouring her spirit? Shouldn't it!' _The angry roar of his own voice slammed into his temples and he growled at the painful throb, sitting up to grab his katana and climb out his window. It only took a moment for him to climb to the roof, and then he was staring at the stars, his golden eyes seeing nothing but pain filled pools of her eyes swimming before him.

'_I'm destroying her,' _he thought, gritting his teeth. _'I am draining the life-energy from her soul just to stabilize my own.' _She was slowly becoming hollow–an empty vessel where life once flourished, and he was responsible. The glowing luster of her spirit was growing dank and dim as any tomb, and the fragrance of jasmine that belonged only to her, was becoming nothing more than the old musk of a lifeless derelict.

He was killing her.

As he shut his eyes, the image of a woman with long, flowing red hair flashed before him and he cried out, the fragile lids flying open in horror and alarm. Grief and fear rifled through his unprotected system, and he clutched his katana in both hands, holding it against his thundering heart as if it would save him from the horror of his own suppressed memories.

"Iie..." he whispered, willing his eyes to stay open, staring intently at the moon. "I will not see you again... I will not see you..." His voice cracked and he snarled, leaping to his feet and raising his clenched fist to the starry sky. "I will not see you!" He cried. "You're already dead, and you'll never be real again! Now leave me... LEAVE ME!"

O.O

Kaoru thrashed in her bed, sobbing in her sleep. The tumbled mass of her ebony hair was matted to her face and pillow beneath her head. Her bloodied hands clutched at the blankets, then smeared the viscous, sticky liquid through the linens. She surged upward, her eyes blinded by the red film, her mouth open as the pitiful moan of anguish was born from her throat.

Pain. So much pain.

"_Bat-tousai," _his name tumbled in a broken sob from her bloodied lips. _'What's happening to you? Are you dying? Battousai?" _Suddenly the thought of her Red Demon being dead was a worse agony than a lifetime of watching him kill, and Kaoru panicked.

'_Battousai?' She screamed across the ethereal infinities, trying desperately to travel to him the way he had to her. 'BATTOUSAI! BBAATTTOUSAAIIII!'_

Only the silence of her room answered her cry, and Kaoru huddled into herself and cradled her lover's agony for a second time, blood streaming down her face while the thundering ache of her failure pounded inside her head.

"_Battousai..."_

O.O

TBC

Happy ThanksGiving.

Tuski-san

November 24, 2005


	3. Anguish

_A/N: Hn...everyone seemed to think the connection was severed. Iie...Kaoru just can't reach Kenshin the same way he can reach her. She was overcome by his pain again, and was left once more with agony of his tears. Only this time... it is fear and pain she must cradle, instead of regret and remorse. Gomen, my friends, for not making it more clear. KnT_

_In my research into the Bakumatsu, I have discovered I need to adjust my timeline. I have discovered by watching the Samurai X OVA that Kenshin was actually only 13 when he first joined the Kiheitai (Ishin Calvary) under the command of Shinsaku Tagasugi. He trained there for several months before Katsura enlisted him as a Hitokiri. By the time he was 14, he was already a seasoned assassin. When he met Tomoe, he had murdered well over a hundred men and had been with Katsura over a year. He was 15 then and it was the year 1864. This means, Kenshin joined the Kiheitai in 1862. His first kill took place some time in 1863. _

_It is currently, 1866. It is one year (give or take) since the incident in the Ikedaya Inn where the Bakufu enlisted the Shinsengumi to ambush the Ishin Leaders during a 'summit' meeting with the other clans. They thought to catch Katsura there and either capture or kill him. He was not present, but his envoy was killed. Another of his envoy, Furadaka, was captured and tortured for information. Myobi, the leader of the other clan, commits seppuku that night and avoids capture. He had already cut ties with Katsura, which is why he did not attend the meeting. (In the OVA, this is where Kenshin and Tomoe go to Otsu and Kenshin has half his scar.)_

_Kenshin still has half his scar. We just haven't dealt with it yet. Just for clarity sake: Kenshin is just past seventeen. Per the OVA and Manga, he leaves the Inshin Shishi in 1867 after becoming 'a murder machine' and plowing his way through legions. Just as Hiko warned him he would. He was 18 when he left. I very carefully mapped his age. Took me the better part of one morning and watching the OVA's as well as researching the War. It was interesting._

_One last piece of information. The Shinsengumi was comprised mainly of the actual Samurai who rose up trying to re-establish their own way of life. They suffered the most when trade was introduced into Japan because before the rise of the farmer and the merchant, they were at the top of the 'food chain'. After, they became almost penniless... they had the most to lose by Japan becoming a foreign trade port. The Shinsengumi was established in the early 1860's but came into their own in 1863 when they were set aside as 'the special police' in Kyoto. They were supposed to stop the 'lawless actions' of the revolutionaries and lawless/wandering Samurai. It didn't exactly work out that way. The Mimawarigumi were the bodyguards that protected the Daimya in Kyoto. Kyosato (Tomoe's fiancé) was a member of this government created branch of the police._

**1866-Bakumatsu**

_Chapter Three_

_Anguish_

_Anguish, cold as the northern ice lakes,_

_torments a spirit consumed by flames._

_Pain, hot as the fiery depths of hell's deepest core,_

_burns a heart frozen by guilt._

_Death, hard as the task masters whip,_

_lashes the humanity of the lost soul._

_And Remorse, sharper than God's tongue,_

_fills the empty shell of what was once a man._

Long into the night Kaoru cradled the anguished soul of her beloved. The frozen trembling essence of him burrowed deep inside of her, and she curled herself around him, pulling him far into the reaches of her warmth. He was terrified, the fingers of his spirit clawed at her heart, seeking a comfort she couldn't refuse. Demon that he was, she could no longer deny he was the mate to her soul. Tragedy promised to stalk them, but love would always bind them.

She could not lie to herself another day.

It was like holding a frightened a child, but the feel of his mind was so faraway. She could neither find nor touch it. The contact with his rational self was denied her, but she didn't know why. She didn't understand what was happening to him. Only this clinging, sobbing child came to her, choking her with his fear and hunger for comfort. The touch of him was an icy burn to her exposed psyche and she shivered, wrapping herself around him protectively. He felt frozen to her- frozen with the loneliness of a long forgotten soul. And she knew he was alone.

He was a child alone, crying in the dark of his own isolation.

Slow, and with purposeful care, Kaoru rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling. Her vision was blurred by the blood, and she used the corner of her blanket to wipe her eyes. It helped a little.

She tried hard to think of a way to calm Him, but not knowing why he cried made her task more than difficult. It wasn't the man who reached out to her this night; it wasn't the Demon Killer who stalked the streets, his katana stained with the blood of the slain. Iie, it was the child of his soul. A forgotten child, and irrational child, a terrified child, and she needed to find a means of comforting him. Her woman's heart demanded it, needed it...wanted it.

She was unsure what sort of role she played in his life up to this point. Was she the innocent observer he'd chosen to recollect his deeds, or was she the one meant to harbor what was left of his humanity inside her heart where it would not be touched by those same deeds? As the mate of his soul, surely it was the latter, but since when did the Gods give an innocent to the Damned as a mate? Perhaps... Kaoru shook her head and covered her eyes with her arm. It was a foolish thought, yet...

'_Perhaps, it is this child I am meant to save, not the Battousai... but is not this child the Battousai's true self?'_

She was confused. The fragments of his soul were many. The Demon, The Murderer, The Lover, The Child. How many more were there? Was he even human anymore? Perhaps that was not even for her to decide at this moment. The Gods did what they did for a higher purpose. It was not her place to ask why, yet... her heart ached for him. _She_ ached for him.

Who was this Battousai? Would she know him if she saw him? Would his eyes tell her who he was, or his presence? If she met him on the streets, would she recognize him, or would she pass him by? Somehow, Kaoru knew she would know him. Her eyes would only have to see him once to know who he was.

'_Red hair... golden eyes... I would know you, Anata.' _She thought. '_Hai, I would know you.' _

O.O

He knelt on top of the roof, his sword held tight to his shoulder, his breathing harsh and shallow. The vision was gone, but the memory was clear.

Red hair... a flash of violet eyes...

'_Okaa-san...' _

She was beautiful. He remembered. So long ago, but he still remembered. Her hair was like... like... liquid copper. It fell like silk through his fingers, and he played with it for hours as a child, sitting on her lap, watching it dance in the lilting breeze like dragonfly breath. She was the only beautiful thing he remembered, but she was dead. He saw her dead.

He remembered.

"Iie," Battousai clamped his eyes shut tight, willing the memory to sink far back into the sludge of his past. He would no see her like that-not dead, not that way. "Iiee!" He shoved himself to his feet, swaying unsteady for a moment. A wave of nausea and dizziness crashed down upon him like a curse from heaven. He pitched forward and almost fell, but by using his saya as a crutch, he stopped before hitting his knees. Pushing himself back up, he staggered across the roof and eased himself over the edge.

He crawled back into his room, pulling the shutters closed behind him, and then laid out his futon. Washing his hands and face were mechanical actions and accomplished with minimal thought. Reaching into a drawer, he pulled out a clean yukata and exchanged his gi and hakama for it. He then folded his outer clothes and put them away. The habitual routine of the tasks effectively took his mind off the disturbing memories just as he hoped they would, but it was a short lived victory. As soon as he slipped between the blankets and closed his eyes, his mind became the unwilling prisoner of his past.

It was one night he could not escape sleep, and as the jaws of morpheus rose to consume him, the small boy he'd once been screamed in horrified terror, running from the carnage and smells of death that awaited him in the bottomless pit of Battousai's nightmares.

_He ran from the blood, the cries of death, and he ran from the cold. But more than that, he ran from the memories... 'Okaa...!' He sobbed, looking over his shoulder, searching... searching for the moldering, bloated ghoul that haunted his dreams. 'Iiiee... Leave me alone! Leave me...' _

_Tiny feet carried him across the frozen black that had been his home for an eternity, his breath puffing out in balls of steam that blocked his vision. It was close; so close he could feel the burn of the decayed fingers reaching for him, trying to pull him down into the flames where it existed. Tears blinded him and then froze to his face, turning his flesh white, leaving his violet eyes glittering like crystalized rain drops. 'Iiieee!'_

_It brushed his cheek... warmth... life... peace... and he reached for it, sobbing, clawing, stumbling. Hair, black as the night, but soft-softer than anything he remembered touched his skin. It was so warm. A heart beat... he could hear it. He ran toward it, scrambling through the dark. And then he saw it. A light. It was blue... pale and beautiful. It promised him something wonderful, he could feel it. It was safe... it was warm... he stumbled and fell, scraping his knees, but knew he couldn't give up. He was close. So close... A voice, a voice so sweet it filled him a new burst of energy, and he climbed, determined and shaking to his feet and threw his body toward the blue light._

_Then he ran-ran on tiny feet that carried him swiftly through the darkness towards the only hope he'd glimpsed in years..._

_He ran to Kaoru._

O.O

Inside her memories she recalled her mother, the lovely porcelain face with eyes blue as cobalt, smiled at her, and she drifted into the reassurance of the love she remembered. Songs and lullabies from her childhood flittered through her mind, and visions of green meadows filled with colorful wild flowers spread out before her. The sun was high and warm in the azure sky, and fluffy clouds of misty white floated lazy, and serene in the sea of endless blue. Faraway, the snow-capped mountains guarded the horizon, waiting for the day to end and night to begin. This was her sanctuary. Her place of peace and solitude.

She closed her eyes and willed her mind and heart to open, coaxing the terror stricken child to inside the safe haven. '_Come to me, little one...' _she called, sending the light of her soul into the dark, looking for him. '_Come... I am here.'_

_O.O_

_Laying on her back, she began to count the clouds and birds that drifted through the air. The breeze smelt of jasmine and white plumb. It was Spring._

"_Can I lay with you?" The voice was small, whispered, high pitched._

"_Yes, of course." She replied, holding out an arm, beckoning the child. "Come, you can put your head on my shoulder, just here." It took only a moment before he was snuggled close to her side, the rich red of his silky hair nestled under her chin, his cheek pillowed on her shoulder. "Is that better?" She asked, stroking his ponytail gently, feeling him relax against her side._

"_Hai," he wrapped his arm around her neck and pressed even closer. "You're warm." He said._

"_And you are very cold." She observed, taking the open sleeve of her kimono and draping it over his small body. "Don't worry," she whispered, kissing his smooth forehead through the shaggy tumble of his bangs. "I'll keep you warm... I promise."_

"_Can... can I..." he hesitated, then buried his nose against her pulse point. "Can I stay with you?" He finally asked, in a rush of words._

"_Hai," she tightened her arms around him, cupping the back of his head to hold him against her. "You can stay as long as you like."_

"_Doumo," his voice quavered. "Doumo..."_

"_What is your name, little one?"_

"_Shinta," he answered, grabbing a handful of her hair like babies do. "My name is, Shinta."_

"_Go to sleep, Shinta." She said, stroking his hair, letting it slide through her fingers then tenderly massaging his nape. "Go to sleep, little one. I will always be here."_

"_You won't leave me?" He sounded so afraid._

"_Iie, little one. I won't leave."_

"_My Okaa left," he whimpered and she felt the wetness of his tears on her neck. "She died and she never came back... except... except..." He shuddered and stopped talking._

"_Except what, Shinta?" Kaoru leaned up and looked down into the child's face. Gasping softly, she found herself gazing upon the most beautiful boy she had ever seen. His tousled hair was blood red with streaks of gold and orange while his large, innocent eyes were the most astonishing color of Summer violets. This was no murderer. This was no demon. If ever the God's had put an Angel on the earth, it was this child. Kaoru was both entranced and heart-broken. "Tell me, Shinta." She coaxed, cupping his face. "What do you mean, 'except'?"_

"_She... she..." he shuddered again, and hid himself against Kaoru's breasts. "She comes back to get me now... but she's dead. I... I see her... but she's... she's dead... she's all rotted up and covered with worms... her eyes are hanging out and her hair's coming off... she's not my Okaa anymore."_

"_Kami-sama," Kaoru's throat constricted and her chest closed in upon itself. Pain sliced through her heart and the image of Shinta's beautiful mother filled her mind, only it was his memory of her dead, decayed body Kaoru saw. The moldering flesh covered with oozing sores, the once lovely face bloated beyond recognition, and the worms... Worms and maggots wiggled and twitched all over her body. It was a sight no child should have seen. "Shinta... sweet, Shinta." She pulled the child closer to her heart, and held him. His tears wet her kimono and matted her hair. "It's not real, little one," she crooned. "It's not real..."_

"_Make her go away," he pleaded, locking his arms around her neck. "Please, make her go away..."_

O.O

'_Shinta...' _

He leapt to his feet, his katana drawn, ready to strike any who dared intrude into his small, private world. But as his sharp, golden gaze roved the small room, Battousai found nothing. Nothing but his few paltry belongings, his roses, and the open window. Open window? His brow furrowed and he moved with measured steps toward the aperture, certain he closed the shutters before going to bed.

Outside a cool breeze blew, fluttering the limbs of the taller trees and sending the drier leaves spiraling to the ground. The sky was still a dark, midnight blue, and the moon and stars remained bright. It was still several hours before dawn and the streets were quiet.

He couldn't understand what woke him up, and he climbed back up on the roof to check the perimeter around the inn. Looking off each of the four sides, he found nothing out of place and his senses told him there were no intruders or strangers lurking nearby. Frowning in confusion, he crawled back into his room and pulled the window closed, making sure he secured the lock. Padding back to his futon, Battousai slipped back under the quilts and rolled so he was facing the window. He held his katana close to his chest, the haft comfortable in his hand. Everything may appear to be normal outside his room, but he was beginning to feel there was something amiss inside.

He watched the window for over an hour, but nothing happened. Finally he admitted to himself that he was being overly paranoid. The vision of his mother had obviously upset him and he forgot to close the window. The explanation comforted him enough that he allowed his eyes to close and the quiet of what he knew as sleep to pass over him once more, but a part of him stayed alert, waiting, watching... it always did.

'_Shinta...'_

His eyes fluttered open and for a moment he saw it; blazing red hair and brilliant amethyst eyes surrounded by a halo of purest white light, then he blinked and it was gone. Bolting upright, he clutched his katana to his chest while his eyes darted around the room, searching, but there was no one there besides himself. Everything was in perfect order just as it had been the night before. There was only one problem.

The window was open again.

"Okaa?" His voice sounded small, frightened, like a small child who is afraid of the dark. He stood on trembling legs, his free hand out to the side, fingers spread as if they would keep him from toppling over. Wide golden eyes, full of innocence and bewilderment darted around the room, searching shadowy corners and shifting light for anything that might not belong, but they could see nothing–nothing his rational mind knew didn't exist. But the window... the window was open after he knew he closed it. The window was open...

"Okaa-san?" He knew it was impossible for her to be there. She was dead. He'd seen her dead, her body bloated and full of worms and maggots, festering and decaying until it didn't even look human anymore. They'd burned her; the villagers. They'd heaved what was left of her and the rest of his family onto that smoldering pile of burning flesh, and burned them. The acrid smell of kerosene and smoke was still firmly embedded in his memory. No matter how many years passed, he knew he'd never forget.

His eyes closed and with them came the memory of something else.

'_Angel...?' _He jerked upright and stared at the window one more time. It was vague, but it still lingered. The fragrance of jasmine... blue skies... green meadows... her arms around him, the sound of her heart beating under his cheek... her promise... she promised...

'_You can stay as long as you like... I will always be here... Shinta...'_

'_Shinta?' _He caught his breath. '_It had to be a dream,' _he told himself, walking to the window. '_She wouldn't know me as a child... 'he' wouldn't go to her... would 'he'?' _Then the thought of the specter returned and the unanswered question of the opened window.

"Spirits cannot open windows," he said aloud, trying to reassure himself, yet, as he stood looking at the pinks and saffrons of the dawn sky, he knew he'd never be able to explain how it happened, unless... He had not walked in his sleep for years, not since...

Battousai spun away from the window and charged across the room. He folded his bedding and futon away in swift, jerky movements, and then he washed his face, hands and feet. He pulled off his yukata, folded it away and shrugged into his gi and hakama. His hair was quickly pulled up into its high top-knot, and then he found his tabi and sandals. Last, he sheathed his katana and slid it inside his belt alone with his wagizashi. He slipped on his wrist guards and tied them in place as he pushed the fusuma open, then closing it carefully, he made his way down the stairs and out the sho-ji at the front of the inn.

He needed to see Katsura. It would not wait until his usual weekly debriefing. He needed to see him now--today. There were questions that he needed to ask-questions that needed answering and Katsura was the only one capable of that.

His feet carried him swift and sure through the early morning crowds, and once more, he barely noticed those he passed, though this time, it was not for the same reasons. This day, his thoughts were preoccupied for a much different reason, and the people surrounding him simply did not exist.

_O.O_

Kogorou Katsura was still a young man, not yet even thirty, but the responsibilities on his shoulders made him feel as if age had crept upon him and laid waste to his vitality. He was tired. The sake had not tasted good for too long now. He missed Ikumatsu. It was too dangerous these days to keep her close to him, and it was many months since he saw her eyes.

He wanted to go home.

"Katsura-sama?"

"Hai, Katakai?"

"You have a visitor, sir." Katakai was older than Katsura, but he deferred to the younger man as the leader without question. Besides, his hands were made for fighting, not politics. Katsura was a much better politician, even if his blade was missed on the battlefield. He was needed elsewhere, that was why Katakai chose to watch his back. "It's... It's Himura-san."

"Well, Katakai." Katsura allowed half a smile to curve his mouth. "Bring him in. The boy has patience, but this is an unexpected visit. It must be important if it brought him out into the light of day, ne?"

"Hai, that's what worries me." Katakai bowed. "He looks terrible."

Katsura frowned. That wasn't the kind of news he liked hearing about his chief shadow assassin. "How so?" He asked.

"He's pale."

"Katakai, Kenshin is always pale."

"Hai, this I know, but he... looks unwell."

This remark made Katsura frown. It was cryptic to be certain and unlike Katakai whose concern for the young hitokiri was at the most minimal. It was no secret that the large Choushu warrior cared little for the youthful assassin. He felt the boy was by far to familiar in his relationship with Katsura and did not show him the proper honor his position demanded, but his respects for the depths of Kenshin's skill were unparalleled. The very fact that he would notice the boy appeared ill was enough to worry Katsura.

Trying to keep the boy in the best of health and in as good of spirit as possible was always his main goal, even if the latter seemed to be all but impossible. Kenshin continued to prefer his own company above that of his comrades, and he rarely sought out the comfort of the fairer sex. Many of the Ishin soldiers believed the boy was still a virgin, some even gossiped that he preferred the company of other boys... and perhaps it was so, but none dared approach him on either matter.

As for Katsura, he believed Kenshin went to the tea houses to drink sake. If someone-male or female-chanced to join him, then he didn't drink alone. The mysterious world of sex and passion remained just that, a mystery. Quite possibly one the boy didn't care to explore. Whatever the case, Kenshin's thoughts, desires, and actions were his own. Katsura wasn't going to pry... and neither was anyone else. Not if they valued their life.

"Bring him to me, Katakai." A feeling of foreboding slithered up the Clan Leaders spine and tingled in base of his skull, warning him something ill was afoot. "I will see him immediately."

"Hai, Katsura-san. I will bring him."

O.O

_uwasouri--_Hemp soled sandals. _sakana--_fish.

He sat quiet and statue still next to the _sakana_ pond, watching the fish swim, his straw hat shielding him from the early morning sun. They lanced through the water like spears slicing through tender flesh, and the comparison intrigued him. Tilting his head to one side, he considered how easily they slid through the water, tiny fins guiding them in intricate patterns that defied the shape of their oblong bodies. They changed directions in an instant, darting from one side to the other, chasing bits of food and shadows as the sun glinted off the mirror like surface of the water.

A spear could only travel in the single direction it was thrown; it's fate sealed beyond retraction once it left the hand of it's wielder. Should it strike the intended target, the flesh was rent in two and separated much like the water being split by the fish as it swam. The path was smooth, yet abrupt and often ended quickly, whereas the fish could slip through the water endlessly until captured by a crafty fisherman or until its days were simply ended by the ages.

Indeed, each slid and separated the fabrics of their chosen worlds simply by passing through them, yet that passage was so far distant from one another, and the results terribly different. Fish did not murder water or make it run red with the blood of its life as it died, nor did the spear slip through the flesh leaving it untouched and unchanged by its presence, yet both passed through their worlds with an ease few could duplicate.

He did not think it should be so. Even a katana did not slide through flesh and bone as easily. There was always the drag of the steel as it passed through; small as it might be. He never failed to not notice it. It grated like sand beneath his _uwasouri_.

He had never cared for spears.

Shifting to look across the courtyard, Kenshin let his gaze fall to green of the grass and he wondered about the reasons he came to see his mentor. How much should he tell him? There was no question he needed to speak to him about the nightmare concerning his Okaa-san, but what about his Angel? Was it prudent to mention Her? A long, despairing sigh lifted his shoulders and he closed his eyes. Would Katsura even believe him, or would the Choushu leader be more inclined to think he had finally succumbed to his demons and delved into the world of madness?

Kenshin wasn't sure himself if he hadn't gone mad, especially now. It was so long since he'd dreamt of his Okaa... Abruptly he shook himself, trying to banish the vision that threatened to rise to the surface. Swallowing hard against the lump that lodged in his throat, he instead pulled his long sword free of its saya and gazed hard at the shining steel.

It brought him both comfort and misery–this sword. It was constant, steady, and it never lied to him. But it also filled him with anguish and guilt for the many lives it aided him in taking. It was the bane of his soul, the tormenter of his spirit, and he hated it as much as he loved it.

"Why?" He asked, in a low, tortured whisper. "Why must you do this to me?" Leaning over, he rubbed his forehead against the coolness of the blade and prayed silently. '_Angel... where are you?' _He pulled back and looked at the reflection of his golden eyes along the mirrored surface. '_Are you here... are you with me, Saiai?' _

Suddenly a brilliant flash of blue skated across the blade, and Kenshin jerked away, his eyes wide, the breath caught in the vise of his chest. The moment was brief, but the clarity beyond contestation.

Eyes, blue as the deepest sea blinked at him from the polished steel, the pupils dilated and surprised, then they blinked once more and were gone.

"Himura-san." Katakai's voice called from the engawa behind him, and Kenshin turned slowly to face the large man. "Come, Katsura-san will see you now. Hurry up," he said, with a wave of his big arm. "Don't keep him waiting. You know how busy he is."

"H-hai," Kenshin nodded, swallowed hard and sheathed his sword. "Arigato, Katakai." He said, rising to his feet. "I'm coming."

O.O

_Karuson--_boy. _tatami--_floor mat. _Do itashimashite--_you are welcome. _Chi--Blood_.

_Daisho--_dual swords worn together/katana and wagizashi. _Yare--_Oh. _Han--_Samurai clan.

"Kenshin. It's good to see you, my _karuson._" Katsura rose from his tatami and approached the straw-hat wearing red-head. "How are you?" he asked, watching Katakai leave.

"Fine." Was the short reply. "May we talk?" The young assassin asked, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana. "I have questions I need to ask."

Katsura was surprised. "Questions?" He asked, motioning the hitokiri inside. "What sort of questions?"

"I want to know what happened the last time I walked in my sleep while I was still here at the main barracks..."

"Why?" Katsura cut the boy off sharply, stopping in front of him and blocking his path further into the room. "It was a long time ago, Kenshin. Why do you bring it up now? What's wrong? Has something happened?"

"I..." The stone-faced youth paused, and then met the sharp look of his mentor from beneath the brim of his hat. "I'm having nightmares again." He admitted.

"I see," Katsura said, folding his hands behind his back. "What kind of nightmares?"

"About my Okaa..." Kenshin bowed his head for a moment. "She's... dead."

"You... are seeing her?"

"Hai."

"Come in and close the door."

"Hai, Katsura." Turning on silent feet, the hitokiri pulled the fusuma closed and then followed the older man to the center of the room. Kneeling, he removed his _daisho_, placing them on the floor beside him. Next he took off his hat and set it to the side. "Arigato," he said, quietly, leaning over to rest his forehead on the floor. "Gomen for not sending you word that I was coming."

"_Do itashimashite,_" Katsura reassured the boy, pouring them both a small dish of sake and setting the bottle on the table between them. "Why don't you tell me what is happening that you have started to dream about your Okaa-san again after all this time?"

"I'm not completely certain why, Katsura." Kenshin said, taking a small drink from his dish. "I was hoping you could help me. That's why I want to know what happened that night. I... I don't remember it very well." Unconsciously his hand lifted and covered his left cheek. The scar traced a sharp angle over the bone and ended near his jaw. It had faded into a faint line over the years, but remained a prominent feature on his face.

"Does it still bother you?"

"Nani?" Kenshin's eyes were vacant as he traced the thin line with his finger tips.

"The scar, Kenshin? Does it still bother you?"

"_Yare_...?" He looked up, coming out of his daze, focusing on Katsura's face. "Hai," he said, nodding. "Sometimes it burns--burns like its covered with ice. Does that make sense?" He sounded troubled, and his look was filled with a kind of turmoil Katsura had not seen for some time. "It is almost like I'd fallen in the snow and cannot get up, and my skin's been frozen to the ground, burning in the ice... Sometimes I think I'm going to touch my face and it's going to peal off in my hands." The hand dropped from his face and he stared at the empty palm. "I see it in my dreams, Katsura... my face laying in my hands... I've seen it."

"Kenshin," Katsura shuddered at the image his young protege' painted for him, and he refilled both of their dishes. "How long have you dreamed this?"

"I don't know," he shrugged, emptying his dish. "A while." He emptied his cup. "Since before the fires last year, although it did get worse after. I'm not sure why."

"Hn, tell me about your Okaa-san. What are you seeing now?"

"The same as it was when I was younger." He looked away and stared absently at the murals painted on the walls. "She's dead... decayed and covered with maggots, trying to grab me and take me with her into the plague fires. It's always the same... except..." He stopped and looked back at his hands. "Last night, I saw her alive. Just for a moment, but she was alive."

"In your dreams?"

"Iie, I was awake." Kenshin shuddered. He had actually forgotten about the vision on the rooftop. Powerful as it was, he'd pushed it to the back of his mind and buried it beneath the horrors of his nightmares. _Why did he do that?_

"Awake?" Katsura narrowed his glance at the boy, wondering if madness was finally knocking at the young assassin's door. "Are you sure, Kenshin? Perhaps you fell asleep and woke suddenly..."

"Iie, Katsura. I was awake. It was quite vivid." Once more his hand rose to cover his cheek. "I was facing the moon... thinking about..." He stopped. "Please, Katsura. I need to know what happened the last night I was here. As I said, I don't remember much of it... only that... I killed someone." Kenshin dropped his hand to his lap and met Katsura's hard eyes once more. "I have to know what I did." He said in a hushed voice. "And I did kill someone... didn't I?"

"Hai, Kenshin." Katsura nodded, placing his sake dish back on the table. "Are you certain you want to hear this? Truly certain?"

"Hai. I must know."

"Alright then. Forgive me, my _karuson_, but it is true. You did kill someone that night. You were out of control... like a screaming, slashing wild animal... it was the first time your eyes turned..."

"Nani!" Kenshin's face turned white, and he swallowed hard, a look of nausea on his face. "I... did... that...?"

"Hai. No one could stop you. You had your katana and you were running up and down the hallways screaming...screaming the same words over and over."

"What words?"

"...leave me alone... you're dead... you're dead... leave me... I won't go with you... you're dead..." Katsura watched the boy kneeling in front of him crumble in upon himself as he revealed the terrible secret he kept from him for over three years. "You know what I'm saying, don't you?"

"H-hai..." Kenshin rasped, the words breaking in his throat. "Kami-sama...I did it... Oh, Gods... help me..." He leaned over and slammed his fists into the floor, trying to calm his rising panic, the old terror nipping at the back of his mind. "I... I was trying to kill her... wasn't I? Her ghost followed me into my dreams, and I was trying to kill her to keep her from taking me back into the fires with her... Katsura," looking up, he met Katsura's dark, worried face. "I... saw... her..."

"Hai, Kenshin. You did." Unable to bear the pain he saw in those golden eyes, Katsura reached out to comfort the boy, but Kenshin flinched away. He should have known that would happen. The young hitokiri abhorred being touched by anyone, even his own mentor and that made Katsura's grief over him that much worse. He would never be able to comfort the boy. No one would.

"It was the night of your first kill, Kenshin." Katsura forced his voice into a state of calm he did not feel. "You assassinated a prominent Daimya from one of the larger _hans _left in Kyoto..."

"I remember."

"Iizuka said you were the best he ever saw. Cool, efficient... you didn't hesitate a moment, and there wasn't a drop of blood on you. It was the cleanest kill he'd seen in months. You were perfect–his greatest acquisition... my greatest hope... and your own greatest enemy."

"Enemy?" Kenshin asked, confused.

"You said nothing that day, Kenshin. Iizuka brought you back, you bathed, cleaned your sword, ate dinner, and went to bed. You didn't speak to any of your comrades; you didn't even speak to me."

"What should I have said?" He asked, his eyes searching the older man's face. "I killed my first man today... what?"

"That isn't the point, you never said anything. You still don't. You keep everything bottled up inside; your guilt, your remorse, your anger... you never let anything out... your never _feel_ anything..."

"It is easier not to feel, Katsura. To feel the pain that exists with the taking of so many lives... it would surely consume me." Once more Kenshin looked away and studied the murals. Sukura blossoms and butterflies. "I don't want to feel anything."

"I understand, Kenshin. Believe me, I do. I have killed men myself. Many men and it is not an easy thing to do..."

"Were you an assassin, Katsura?" Kenshin's golden gaze slid back to his Mentor, who seemed to be speechless at the moment. "Did you kill men for other men, or did you kill in the heat of battle? How did these men die whose lives ended beneath your blade? Tell me..."

"Iie, Kenshin." Katsura cleared his throat. "I was not a hitokiri... I have never been an assassin like you. Forgive me, my _karuson_, I have not been faced with killing in this same context, though I understand what it means to kill a man and deprive him of his life, I do not know what it means to take his life because of who he is specifically. I have never..."

"Murdered?"

"Hai."

"I thought not." Kenshin poured himself another dish of sake and drank it. "It is not the same."

"Iie, it is not." A long sigh crawled free of Katsura's throat and he, too, succumbed to

another drink. "Kenshin, you are running from your own ghosts, my _karuson, _and there is nothing, I nor anyone else can do to help you until you stop."

"I did not come to ask for help, Katsura." Kenshin replied. "I came to ask questions."

"I understand that, Kenshin, but in asking questions and expecting answers, you are also asking for help."

"In what regard?"

"You lock everything up inside of you; your rage, your grief, your guilt, until there is no other alternative but for your emotions to explode. You were young, Kenshin. That first night you should have come to me. I would have helped you through the pain and the confusion. We could have faced it together. Even though you appeared emotionally much more mature than the other boys... I knew it was still going to be difficult for you. Especially as idealistic and pure hearted as you were... you should have come to me..."

"Pure hearted?" Kenshin scoffed and shook his head. "I murdered an innocent in my sleep, Katsura. My guilt and grief took me from my bed while I was still locked in the world of my own nightmares, and I killed someone thinking I was killing the ghost of my dead Okaa... my soul will burn in the eternal fires of hell for that action alone, and there is nothing anyone can do to save me; not now. My soul, what is left of it, is damned. You know it as well as I."

"Kenshin..."

"Tell me who I killed, Katsura."

"Iie, it doesn't matter now..."

"Tell me." He insisted, standing up and sliding his _daisho _back into his belt.

"Kenshin..."

"TELL ME!"

Katsura sighed. There was no getting around it. There was no use trying to assuage the boys shattered soul. What was done was done, and now he knew the reason why. "Alright," he sighed, looking up to face those burning eyes. "Her name was Tokori. She was one of the kitchen girls. We believe she heard you crying in the hallway and came to see what was wrong. You attacked her and there was a struggle. At one point she managed to get away and fled to the kitchen, arming herself with a knife." No longer able to meet the steady coldness of the assassins gaze, Katsura concentrated on his sake. "You caught her there... and killed her, but not before she marked your face. It took Katakai and Iizuka both to pull you off of her, but by then, there wasn't much left. You'd cut her to ribbons."

"I see."

Katsura looked up, surprised at the calmness of the boys voice, but when he saw the face, he became very aware of something. Kenshin was not calm. He was far from calm. Blood dripped on the floor from the wound over his cheek, and from the cuts in his palms made by his own finger nails as he clenched his hands into white fists of raging grief. His flesh had turned a terrible shade of palest pink, his lips almost blue, and he was trembling-trembling like a leaf caught in an unforgiving wind. The breath whistled through his nostrils in tight, tiny bursts as if breathing caused him more pain than he could bear.

But his eyes were dry. Those glittering golden orbs were blank and unseeing with agony, but they were dry as a desert.

"Arigato, Katsura-san." Kenshin spoke, his voice low, raspy but tightly controlled. "I will return to the Inn and await my next assignment. Gomen nasai for disturbing you today. I hope I have not completely destroyed the peace of your morning." Bowing deeply, Kenshin retrieved his hat, strapped it under his chin and left the room.

Katsura shivered. It was much colder today that he remembered it being earlier. Climbing to his feet, he pulled the edges of his kimono together and quietly watched Kenshin leave his home.

It was not a good day.

"Katakai?" He called out the fusuma.

"Hai, Katsura-san?" The large man appeared abruptly.

"Bring me some clean water and a towel. I need to wipe some blood off the floor."

"Blood...?"

"Kenshin's _chi. _I'll explain later... if I can."

"Of course." Katakai left to retrieve the items requested, the question hot in his mind. '_How did Himura-san's chi get on the floor?'_

_TBC_


	4. Angels and Demons

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or the RK Characters; nor do I receive any kind of monetary gains from this, or any of the stories I have written. This is strictly done for my own pleasure and that of the dear readers who honor me with their patronage._

_**Author Note: **Watching the OVA I saw something that was both confusing and intriguing. It led me to believe that either Kenshin was remembering his own sister, or he was being reminded of the three sisters who died trying to protect him during the slaughter of the slavers train. It is most likely the latter, but, being that I enjoy creating my own facts and conclusions, I have altered this perception and given Kenshin an older sister to recall. It offered something meaningful for me to 'play with' in his relationship with his sensai... and for later years. KnT_

Chapter Four

_**Angels and Demons**_

_Suminasen--_sorry, _deshi--_apprentice/student, _bokken--_wooden sword, _shinai--_wood/bamboo practice sword, _kata--_practice routine, _sensei--_teacher, _-kun--_Mister for a young boy, _iie–_no, _Hai–_yes

The callouses on her hands screamed in pain as she swung her _bokken_ through habitual, mindless _kata_, the cadence counting itself off inside her head while her muscles responded to years of repetitious training and physical conditioning. Around her the boys who were her students grunted with the effort to keep up with her grueling pace, sweat trickling down their faces and staining the fabric of their practice gi's.

Unconsciously, Kaoru was making her young _deshi's_ pay dearly for her troubled state of mind and heart, pushing them to the very limits of their small bodies power reserves. One by one, they began to falter, giving in to the fatigue that snapped at their heels.

"_Sensei,"_ Nodekai, the oldest of the five at thirteen, finally lowered his shinai and hung his head in defeat. "We can go no further." He said, the humility in his voice a burden on his young soul. "It is enough and we must stop... please, understand. We are not weak, but whatever drives you today is beyond our means to stay with. We are finished."

"I... nani?" Kaoru turned glazed eyes on the young boy and blinked, trying to pull his exhausted face into focus. His dark hair was plastered to a sweat soaked forehead, the usually bright brown eyes dull. Lowering her _bokken_, she trailed her glance over the other four boys and found them in similar condition. Young Takimo knelt on the floor, leaning heavily on his _shinai_, his slender shoulders shuddering with the exertion of his labored breaths. The light green of his gi stained the color of the deep sea with the sweat from his body.

She had pushed them to their breaking points and beyond.

"_Suminasen,"_ the apology tumbled over her lips and she dropped to her knees, her _bokken_ laying in front of her. "I was not aware..." The words froze in her mouth as smears of blood across the smooth wood of her weapon caught her attention. Jaw muscles clenched, she turned her hands over and stared at the abused flesh covering her palms. Though long used to the feel and work of the weapon, she had also pushed her own body beyond its limits.

"_Sensei?"_ Nodekai knelt at her side, reaching out to cup her hands in his own. "I... I've never seen you bleed before." He said in a hushed voice.

"It has been many years." She replied, closing her fingers over the ruptured callouses, feeling the sticky texture of the blood slide under the rough tips. Pulling away from the boy's concern, Kaoru clutched one fist to her breast, the other a tight ball in her lap. "Our time is over today." She said, in a small yet hard voice. "Go home. Nodekai-kun?"

"_Sensei?"_

"Make certain Takimo-chan and the others get home safely."

"_Hai, Sensei."_ The boy bowed low, touching his forehead to the floor, then stood and motioned for his classmates to join him. "Shouldn't we stay and help you clean the dojo?" He asked. "You can't do it alone with your hands like that."

"Iie," she shook her head, rising to her feet, the _bokken_ held loosely in her bloodied grasp. "Do as I ask, and see the younger boys home. I will see to the dojo."

"Let me at least help you wrap your hands... _Sensei,_ you need salve and bandages..."

"...and I will attend to it, Nodekai-kun." Kaoru's face hardened as she locked eyes with her student. "You are all exhausted in both body and mind. Go home, I will take care of the dojo."

"_Hai, Sensei."_ The flash of rebellious determination flickered and died in Nodekai's eyes as he motioned for the others to follow him to the door. "We will be back tomorrow."

"Hai," Kaoru nodded. "Tomorrow." Then she turned away, walking toward the rack that held her father's swords, kneeling in front of it, her head bowed. It was as close to a holy shrine for her as going to the temple. The boys exchanged worried looks, each knowing the other's thoughts.

Their _sensei_ was spending more and more time with her shrine and the ghosts of the dead than she was existing in the real world with the souls of the living. She was drifting away from them. The bright, laughter-filled girl who taught them the _Kasshin Ryu_ was all but gone, and in her place was a specter, a doppleganger, a stranger.

Kamiya Kaoru was wasting away before their eyes, and they knew not what to do to prevent it.

O.O

_Longing to become one,_

_yearning for a forbidden touch._

_The Fire will seek out the Frozen Wasteland_

_of a tortured soul, _

_if only to quench the thirst of its own wretched Heart._

'_Where are you, Beloved?' _She stared at the polished sheath of her father's sword, clutching her hands into painful knots in her lap. _'Why have you not come back to me since... since...' _Kaoru bowed her head and felt the heat of a single tear slide down her face. It was more than a week passed the night she cradled the child, Shinta, in her soul, and she was worried. It had come to her that night, the cause for His pain. The reasons he came to her... why she loved him despite the horror he had become.

Beneath the Demon lay buried an Angel. An Angel with a soul made of purest light and perfect love. He was magnificence itself. Exaltation and redemption woven into a being of such beauty and power, she knew she had to find a way to save him. But to do so, she realized she had to find him.

'_Where are you, Shinta? Where are you, my Mononoke?' _

O.O

_**The first Principle of Hiten Mitsurugi**. A sword swung in my name, shall be swung for the people of the world to prevent the shedding of innocent blood._

"Master..." He gritted his teeth as he dumped another bucket full of cold water over his head, drenching himself head to foot. The cloth of his dark blue gi clung to his chest and back, sucking up against his skin, molding to his lithe frame. His hakama hung loose, droplets of water dripping from the hem onto the floor and his feet. Around him, the puddle glistened a faint pink in the flickering of the candlelight.

His intended target had not given up his life easily this night, and Kenshin found himself crossing blades with an experienced, and well trained swordsman. The outcome of the battle was decided at the first pass of steel, but the young hitokiri was forced to use more than one strike to serve Heaven's Justice upon the proud, and determined Daimya. As a result, he was covered with the blood of his victim. It clung to his hair, spattered across his clothing, and stained the soft gray of his hakama. However, the bloodied clothes were the least of Kenshin's worries. It was the blood on his face that concerned him the most.

It wouldn't wash off.

The bloodied hand print, marring the perfection of his right cheek, remained despite the thorough dousing of four buckets. The glacial surface of the water in the barrel bore testament to the fact as he looked hard into the glaring eyes of his own reflection.

"_Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu... Sou Ryu Sen!"_

_Kenshin lunged forward, red hair streaming through the frosted air behind him like a bloodied banner snapping in the wind, his sword sliding free of its sheath with barely a sound. Slicing it, flat blade, across the front of his body, he blocked the streaking downward thrust of Daimya Shindo's plunging katana, parrying it to the side as if it were not more than a drifting willow branch. Then, bringing his left arm to bear, he swung his saya in a smooth, fluid motion that slammed the length of iron into the side of the Daimya's head. _

_Bones crunched, the eye that blinked so wide and surprised bulged from its socket and spilled out onto a cheek stretched wide with a scream of pain. Blood spurted from the yawning mouth as the bones caved in, slicing through flesh and cartilage. _

"_Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu... Ryu Kan Sen-Kogarashi!"_

_Spinning on the ball of his foot, Kenshin whirled away from the stumbling Daimya only to come full circle, launching his body forward, he smashed his sword across the large man's exposed back. The blade cut deeply into the muscles, separating bones, and severing the spinal cord as it cleaved through with lightening speed and then pulled free. _

_Daimya Shindo crumbled to the ground at Kenshin's feet, blood pooling around his still form. The sound of his wet breathing rattled in the hitokiri's heightened senses like rice paper rasping in a broken window frame, and the boy knelt next to the dying man, his golden eyes gazing with dispassionate pity upon the once proud swordsman._

"_Heaven's Justice has been served upon you, Daimya Shindo," he said, wiping the blood from his katana and then sheathing it with quiet skill. "Your unrighteous tyranny is at an end."_

"_Un-right-ous..." the dying man gasped for breath as his shattered lungs struggled to function around the rising blood smothering him. "You sp-speak of un-righteous when it is you who com-mits the great-est blas-phemies of all... Bat-tou-sai..." He lunged upward and grabbed the front of Kenshin's gi, pulling him down into his world of blood and death. "Your soul... will rot in hell..." His eyes fluttered and as his spirit struggled free of his mangled body, Daimya Shindo stretched out his hand and wiped his blood across his murderer's face. "...in hell..."_

"Angel..." he whispered, gripping the edge of the barrel, clamping his eyes shut to ward off the image of his stained flesh. "Help me... make it go away."

O.O

_A voice soft as mist,_

_Eyes pale as mornings dawn._

_Rose petal lips pursed in life's sweetest smile,_

_speak across time, whispering love's gentle embrace..._

'_...brother.'_

**1862-The Mountains beyond Kyoto**

_Memories of Snow_

"What was her name again, Kenshin?"

"Nani?" The boy looked up from polishing his sword, his large amethyst eyes wide and questioning. "Who, Master?"

"Your sister... what was her name?"

"Nozomi." He replied, returning to the katana, his features carefully blank. "Why do you ask?"

"No particular reason," The tall, dark-haired man heaved himself up off the floor and strolled to the tall shelves lining one wall of the small hut he shared with his young _deshi, _and after flipping the long white cloak he wore aside, he took two jugs of sake down. He then turned to cast a measured gaze upon the quiet thirteen year old sitting by the fire"You were talking in your sleep again last night," he said. "It has been sometime since you succumbed to that... weakness."

"_Gomen nasai_, Master." The boy flinched, his lean shoulders jerking the slightest as his hand tightened over the blade of his sword. "I... I did not mean to disturb you." He shifted, turning his back to the fire and reaching for his saya. The blade slid inside the sheath easily, the quiet 'shuushing' of the gleaming metal scraping against the polished wood as it disappeared. "I had a nightmare."

"A nightmare?" Seijuro Hiko, 13th Master of Hiten Mitsurugi Ryu raised one finely arched black eyebrow, staring at the rigid back of the now silent boy. "It is not usually your sister's name that falls from your lips when you run through your nightmares, Kenshin." Hiko resumed his position in front of the fire, grunting as he sat down on the floor. "Tell me about this nightmare." He said, pulling the cork from one of the jugs and pouring himself a liberal dish of the alcohol. "Why has Nozomi come to haunt you?"

"She is not haunting me, Master." The boy's voice was sharp, the edge biting at his respect for the older man. "I was dreaming about the last harvest we had on my father's farm. It was the last time I saw her alive."

"Hnn," Hiko watched the boy, there was a muscle jumping along the angular jaw line that bespoke his inner turmoil and rising emotions. He did not like talking about his nightmares. "What happened in the dream, Kenshin?" Hiko was prodding; a dangerous thing to do with Kenshin sometimes, but the boy needed to learn to face the demons of his past if he was ever going to conquer them. "What happened to Nozomi?"

"It doesn't matter," the boy muttered, jerking his katana hard against his chest and staring sullenly out the window. "It's snowing again." He said, "Isn't it early for snow?"

"Iie, you know the first snows come early." Hiko poured himself another dish of sake and narrowed his gaze at the boy. He was stubborn. "Tell me about your sister, Kenshin. The more you flee from your fears, the more life you will give them."

"I am not afraid!" The words lashed out, hot and defiant. Lavender eyes flashed angry in the firelight while delicate nostrils flared with a rush of heated breath. "I told you, it doesn't matter..."

"But it does matter, Kenshin. If it brought you back to the world of talking and calling out in your sleep, it definitely matters." Hiko was losing his patience and the tinge of a snarl laced his words. "You cannot hide from your dreams behind the edge of your sword." He scoffed, waving a hand at the way the boy clutched the katana before him like a shield. "It will not save you in the land of your mind. Now, stop behaving like a terrified infant and tell me what you saw."

"It wasn't real," he whispered, turning disturbed eyes back to the window. "It couldn't be real... it never happened."

"What never happened?"

"We were pulling daikon radishes, I remember, they were so big they filled my whole hand. I could only carry one at a time, but Zomi made me feel like I was such a big help... she always did that, because Takenai would constantly tell me what a sorry excuse for a farmer I was going to be. He never said anything nice to me, never..."

"He was your brother, Kenshin. From what you've told me, Takenai was about seven years older than you. To him, you were a bothersome child, nothing more. However, in his heart, you know he loved you."

"Hai, I suppose, but I never understood why he was so mean otherwise..."

"Because that is the way brothers are." Hiko let a sad smile slip over his features. Too many of Kenshin's memories of his long-dead family were unhappy; at least to his mind. He would understand better when he was older. "What else happened?"

"I could see Otou-san in the distance. He was harvesting the carrots and I remember him waving to us. The sun was setting behind him, and he shouted we needed to hurry before we lost the daylight. Zomi patted my head and told me we were almost done. I was glad because I was so tired and my arms hurt from pulling the radishes. We turned and picked up the basket between us and moved to the next row... that's when I heard them."

"Who?"

"The Bandits."

"Bandits? What bandits?"

"The ones that attacked the Slavers Train and murdered everyone..." Kenshin drew in a shuddering breath and gripped his katana tighter. "They came crashing out of the trees and attacked us. I watched Takenai pull his sword and start to fight... Nozomi picked me up and we were running through the garden for the house. She was screaming for Otou-san... screaming for help... then we were falling... it seemed like we fell forever. When we hit the ground, for a moment... she-she looked like Sakura-dono, then she was just Zomi again. The bandit's sword was sticking out of her throat, and she was bleeding all over me. Her eyes were still alive and she was trying to whisper something to me, but I couldn't understand it. There was too much blood in her mouth. Then... then she was gone and I was alone in the middle of the radish furrow. The Bandits were gone, Takenai was gone... everything was gone. It was like the whole world disappeared..."

"What happened to Nozomi, Kenshin? Was she there when your family died in the plagues?"

"Iie, I... I don't really remember, but I don't think so."

"Where did she go? Do you know?"

"She was the eldest of us and old enough to marry," he said, looking back up at the window, a wistful look spilling over his fine features. "I remember a man coming to take her away one day. I cried and cried, but she left anyway. I never saw her again. I was only four or five years old..."

"Hnn," Hiko, rubbed his jaw, wondering. "So she may have escaped the plagues."

"Nani?" The boy sounded confused and turned from the window to face his master. "Escaped?"

"Hai, Kenshin." Once more Hiko filled his dish with sake and drank. "If she was not at the farm with your family when the illness swept through, she may yet be alive... it is a possibility, although that does not explain why you would be having nightmares about her. That is still a mystery."

"Perhaps, I just feel alone, Master." Kenshin cast a pensive look at the large man. "Sometimes, I... I miss them. My family."

"I understand that, Kenshin. Do you, perhaps, feel... abandoned by them?"

"Abandoned?"

"Hai. Do you feel as if they left you behind without the right to do so? Could that be why you are dreaming about Nozomi disappearing and leaving you alone in the radish field? Could that be why the whole world disappeared and left you alone... because you feel abandoned?"

"I..." Kenshin paused, his large eyes searching the room as if the answer lay hidden in the shadows. "I don't know, Master. Would not my being here with you make those feelings go away?"

"I don't know, Kenshin." Hiko watched his _deshi _closely. "You are the only one who harbors the answer to that question. Until you are prepared to face the demons and fears of your childhood, you may never know the truth behind your nightmares. No one can fight those battles for you... not even I. They must be conquered by your own inner strengths. If you do not succeed on your own, those demons that dwell within you, will grow, become stronger, and one day rise up to consume you. Do you understand?"

"Hai, Master." Kenshin hung his head and nodded. "I will find a way."

"I pray to Kami-sama that you do, Kenshin, for you are the only one who can."

O.O

_A warrior bound by Honor,_

_a soul gilded in purpose,_

_a heart wounded by guilt._

_Duty before penance._

_A blade of folded steel,_

_weighed, balanced, ready,_

_an edge keen as God's wrath._

_A tool of war and submission._

_The executioner's hand hesitates..._

_A life meant to die is spared._

_Is it failure, dishonor..._

_Or is it Atonement?_

_Is the wielder forgiven or damned?_

_Only God may pass penance,_

_for the man has already judged himself._

_There is no forgiveness for the Damned._

She heard him. Clear, concise, as if he were standing next to her and shouting.

'_Angel, help me! Make it go away!'_

"Make what go away, Shinta?" Kaoru cried, grabbing at her throat, spinning in a terrified circle, scanning the yard for signs of the frightened child, but saw nothing. The icy fear clutched at her heart, squeezing her until she felt pain when she tried to breath. She knew the Battousai had killed again; she had seen him. She knew about the bloody hand that touched his face; she had felt it slide across her own skin and the horror of that sensation sent her out into the grass, vomiting what was left of her dinner into the dirt.

His soul had clenched into a ball of tightest pain, filling her with icy blades of agony as he fled the scene, taking her horrified soul with him. Then, just when she was certain she could bear no more, he severed the link and left her sobbing and panting, huddled alone in the muss of her futon, blood streaking her face and staining her clothes. Now his heart was reaching out for her again... his inner most secret soul was calling for her to save him.

'_Help me, Angel! Make it go away!'_

"Where are you?" She sobbed, falling to her knees, the hard wood of the engawa bruising her skin. "I can't help you if I can't find you..." Her hands folded into fists as her forehead slid over the cold wood. "Tell me where you are... tell me..."

'_It won't come off... it won't...'_

"Shinta!" Kaoru leaned back and screamed to the starlit sky. "Where are you!"

'_...where? I... where?'_

"I'll come to you, Beloved." She whispered, the breeze around her growing icy, slithering closer and winding around her body. "I'll come where you are, Shinta... I'll come and be with you, but you have to tell me where... where are you?"

'_You... you will come?'_

"Hai. I will come."

'_I... Merciful Angel... Kyoto... I am in Kyoto...'_

"Saiai-Battousai," she wrapped her arms around herself, closing her eyes and savoring the icy touch of him. "I am coming, my precious Love." Her voice was the smallest whisper. "Look for me, Beloved. I am coming."

'_Angel... my Saiai-Blue Angel...' _

This time, the icy embrace did not go away, but remained all night and Kaoru curled into it as if it were the most natural thing for her to do. It was home.

O.O

Kamiya Dojo temporarily closed.

Master Kamiya Kaoru out of town.

Will notify upon return.

Gomen nasai.

Kaoru nailed the sign up on the gate, placed the tools back in the shed, and then picked up her travel pack and headed for the docks. She bought a ticket for Kyoto on the next ship leaving Tokyo, and waited to board. It would be three hours until it set sail. Just enough time for her to buy a few essentials before departure.

She needed a new umbrella and a better coat. It would be getting cold in Kyoto and she needed to be prepared for the bitter rains. She also bought several more pair of tabi, knowing her feet would be getting wet more often. It always paid to be prepared.

In her pack she carried two kimono. The rest of her clothes where gi and hakama. She was more used to wearing the uniforms than the gowns as it was, and she was by far more comfortable in them. The dark blue pants and gi she wore for the voyage were getting her some odd looks, but she brushed them aside. With the new coat she just purchased, at least she was warm, which was more than she could say for the other woman on the ship. A kimono was pretty, but not very serviceable when it came to bad weather, and a four day ship ride in the wind and rain was not her ideal of practical kimono surroundings. She'd stay with her gi and hakama.

The days passed, the rolling of the waves lulling her into a feeling of monotony that was beyond her level of understanding. She sat in the safety of the bow, her bokken leaning on her chest and shoulder, gazing across the sea as the water crashed into itself, rose high on foaming peaks and crashed again. It was endless and infinite, no two waves exactly the same, yet the repetition was mindless and mesmerizing.

It passed the time.

The nights, however, were much different. Kaoru would lay motionless in her bunk, watching the play of water and light reflections on the ceiling of her cabin, waiting... waiting for Him to come to her. And always about the same time He would slither under the door, across the floor, onto her bunk, and then swirl into an ever solidifying mass around her, covering her, holding her, cradling her. Only then did she sleep, curled in the sanctity of his embrace, her cheek nestled in the icy hollow of his throat.

He was getting closer, so close she swore she could feel his heart beating beneath her palm where it rested upon his frozen chest. The steady thud-thud calming her, reassuring her, singing her into a restful sleep, while the cold bands of his arms held her firm against the strength of his body.

She was safe. The cold no longer burned her flesh. The love in his heart protected her from that. All she felt now was the overwhelming peace of belonging... of being home... of being loved.

He needed her and she needed him, and for those reasons, Kaoru knew she made the right choice. Her Demon-Angel was worth saving. Her beloved Battousai... her Shinta... would he know her, she wondered, snuggling into the firming essence of him, smelling the faint ginger spice that drifted of the ghostly hair beneath her cheek. Would he be waiting at the docks when she arrived, or would she have to search the streets for him? Would he be there? Would he...?

'_I will be there...'_

"Will you?"

'_Hai, my love... and I will know you... I would always know you.'_

"But how?"

'_Your eyes, my Angel. I will know you by your eyes... blue oceans of innocent deliverance... my salvation...'_

"My eyes?" She blinked, confused. "But you have never seen them... have you?"

'_Hai, I have... they live in my blade... and my dreams.'_

"Y-your blade?" Kaoru turned into his chest, shuddering. "I didn't know..." Her fingers clutched at his hair, slipping through the almost silk. "I-I see your eyes too," she whispered. "In my dreams... they are like... like lanterns in the night... or liquid gold. So beautiful... and frightening..."

'_Frightening?' _he sounded dismayed. _'Please, Angel... don't ever be afraid of me... I would never hurt you... not you...' _The icy embrace tightened and a tender, cold kiss brushed her forehead. _'I-I love you.' _

"I am not afraid of you," she whispered, nuzzling him. "I am only afraid of who you become when... when you kill. _He _is so... ruthless, so merciless... _he _frightens me."

'_But... he is me, Angel. We are one in the same, he and I...'_

"Iie!" She was emphatic. "You are not the same. You have created him to be the hitokiri, but he is not YOU! Not the real you..."

'_Be that as it may, Saiai... He is a part of me... He exists in my soul...'_

"Iie! I will not believe it..."

'_Hush,' _his hands stroked her hair, her back, her arm, and shoulders, comforting her upset. _'Hush, my love... you will be here soon and we will be together. Everything will be alright then. Do not upset yourself like this, you're breaking my heart... what heart I have left... be still, Angel, be still. Sleep and think of our meeting in the morning. I will be on the docks waiting for you... I will be there... look for me... I will be there...'_

_O.O_

The ship docked in Kyoto bay midmorning and Kaoru was standing on deck, leaning over the railing, looking into the crowd of people waiting below. He was down there among them somewhere, she could feel him, his eyes watched for her just as hers searched for him. Was he right? Would they know each other? In her heart she believed she would know him, but in truth, would she? Her heart thundered with anxiety as the dock hands tied the ship to the pier. It was soon now.

Her hands trembled, the fingers fumbling like so many thumbs as she grappled with her pack, dropping it several times before finally clutching it to her chest. The breath in her lungs was labored and whistled through her parted lips in short little gasps as her anticipation escalated with the lowering of the gangplank.

'_Can I do this?' _She asked herself, as she forced her leaded feet toward the exit. _'Can I truly become the lover of a murderer? Kami-sama...' _Stepping off the ship, she took care walking down the narrow plank until she reached shore, and then moved onto dry land. All around her people rushed forward to greet loved ones or bow in welcome to the odd acquaintance or business associate, and one by one the crowd began to dissipate.

"You are here..." The voice behind her was a soft tenor, gentle and hesitant in its mannerism as it reached out to caress her ears. "I... it is you, is it not? Angel?"

Kaoru turned slowly and faced the owner of that gentle voice, catching her breath as she gazed into the adult features of her tortured angelic child. The same flaming red hair danced across his forehead and feathered over his cheeks as the breeze blew the silken strands into a whispery flight around his head. The brilliance of his golden eyes bore hopefully into her face, a hint of fear peering from their shimmering depths as he wondered if he'd made a mistake. He was a small man, only a few short inches taller than herself and not heavily muscled at all. Even so, she knew there was a deceptive amount of strength hidden in his body, and Kaoru felt a tightening of the muscles in her stomach in response to him.

Dark blue gi and gray hakama covered him, while dark colored tabi kept his feet warm in the cooling weather. His katana and wakizashi were tucked snugly inside his belt and hung accessible at his left side. The majority of his chest was exposed, flawless and unscarred. In fact, to her eyes, there was not one mark on him except for a single scar marring the smoothness of his left cheek. If not for that, he would have been perfect.

"Hai," she took a halting step toward him, her hand lifting of its own volition. "It is I... Shinta."

"Shinta?" He replied, his voice laced with confusion and pain. "How do you know that name?"

"You told it to me." She said, tenderly laying her hand over the scar on his face. He flinched beneath her touch but did not move. "The night you came to me as a child, you told me... should I call you something else?" She asked, tilting her head, looking into his troubled face.

"I... my name is Kenshin." He said, covering her hand with his own and turning his face into her palm. "But you may call me whatever you wish, Angel. I don't mind."

"Kenshin?" She tasted the new name, letting it slide over her tongue and feeling the sound of it inside her mind. "It suits you, Saiai." She said, dropping her pack so she could cup the other side of his face. "Shinta is a child's name and I can see you are no longer a child... indeed, you are not."

"Iie, Saiai," he replied, pressing a soft kiss into her hand. "I am not a child." Slowly he let his gaze move to lock with hers. "Are you afraid of me?" He asked, worry etching his voice. "Now that you can see my face for what it is, are you afraid?"

"I am not afraid," she said, brushing the hair off his face, feeling him flinch once more. "Does my touch offend you?" Her eyes filled with concern and she started to pull away. "I-I won't if it does."

"Iie!" He pulled her back when she would have stepped away. "Don't! Gomen, koishii," he dropped his head onto her shoulder and heaved a deep sigh. "Gomen nasai. Please, don't pull away... I... I... it has been years since I allowed anyone to touch me..."

"Years?" She was aghast. "Why?"

"I... am unworthy of such a blessing." He said, his voice muffled by her gi. "The touch of another human being is reserved only for those whose souls are untainted by the sins of blood... only one who may kneel before Kami-sama unashamed should be blessed with such a sacrament. I-I am not so unstained."

"Oh, Kenshin." Kaoru wrapped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in his neck, holding him as much as he would allow. "Saiai, none of us are as unstained as we wish to be... please, let me hold you, let me touch you... let me be with you. I do not find you tainted or unworthy... I-I love you."

"Angel..." He choked, sliding his free arm around her waist, gently pulling her closer to him. "I-I love you, too."

"Do you?" She asked, nuzzling him. "Do you really? Is it the same now that I am here with you and you aren't just a spirit coming to visit me in the dark of the night? Is it still love that holds you to me?"

"Iie, my love." He whispered, pulling back to lay a hand along her cheek. "It is not the same. It is more... much, much more." Leaning into her, Kenshin brushed his nose up against hers and then molded her body full against his, both of his arms folding in around her small body. "You are the heart of me, Angel. The only warmth I remember knowing, and the only grasp on my sanity I have left. I will love you beyond the end of time, until the day the stars fall from the sky and the ocean swallows the world. You are the only thing that matters in my life. I would die for you."

"Ken-shin..."

Her emotion choked response died as his mouth closed over hers, his fear of touch pushed to the far reaches of his mind while his lips parted and plundered hers. A low moan crawled up her throat while her arms tightened around his neck, her jaw went lax, and he pressed his tongue passed the barrier of her teeth, deepening the kiss and bringing them into a world of closeness neither knew existed til that moment.

Fire and Ice... Heat and Cold... Light and Dark... It was a beginning.

TBC


	5. Binding the Edges

_**Disclaimer:**I do not own Rurouni Kenshin or the RK Characters; nor do I receive any kind of monetary gains from this, or any of the stories I have written. This is strictly done for my own pleasure and that of the dear readers who honor me with their patronage._

_**Beware, transition chapter ahead. Some boring material. **_

_**Chapter IV**_

_**Binding the Edges**_

_To Love, Always..._

_To touch a rose_

_Feel the breeze_

_Smell the scent of life_

_of birth_

_of dying_

_of death_

_Feel the Lily's petal's_

_Soft as breath_

_White as the snow fall_

_as lamb skin_

_as rabbit fur_

_as spring clouds_

_She holds the Beast in her arms_

_Harbors his soul with her spirit_

_Cradles his Heart in her hands_

_in her eyes_

_in her womb_

_in her loyalty_

_Love blooms strong_

_Bonds grow true_

_Devotions run deep_

_Run Eternal_

_Run like Sand_

_Run like Water_

_Always._

Almost as quickly as the kiss began, it ended as Kenshin's logical mind bit hard at his psyche, reminding him about public proprieties and the spectacle they were making. He could not dishonor his Angel by tarnishing her innocence with such a bold display before so many prying and disapproving eyes, so he reluctantly pulled away and set her at a more acceptable distance from his body. Within himself, he couldn't quite believe what he'd just done and wondered at his own actions.

"Gomen," he whispered, resting his forehead against hers. "I did not mean for that to happen. I... I've never kissed anyone before. I-I've never even tried to."

"It's alright, Kenshin." Kaoru gently brushed her hand over his cheek. "I've never kissed anyone before either. It was a nice first kiss."

"You're not angry?" He asked, tilting his head so he could see her eyes. "We're in the middle of the pier with a hundred people. I shouldn't have done that." Remorse flooded through him and he blushed. "I may have dishonored you..."

"I don't think anyone saw us, koishii." Kaoru smoothed her hand over his scarred cheek in a soothing gesture. "It's alright. Besides, it was only a little kiss; you stopped it quickly enough."

"So... you aren't angry with me?"

"Iie," her tone was gentle. "I am not angry, so put your worries to rest. Everything will be alright. Even if we were seen, I think we will be forgive one small lapse as long as we maintain proper distances now, hai?"

Kenshin nodded and stepped away from her, increasing the space between them once more. "I give you my word, Angel." He said solemnly. "I will not dishonor you. You are far too precious to me."

"If that is so, Kenshin, will you promise me something?"

"Hai," he looked up and met the serious pools of her dark blue eyes. "What would you have me do?"

"When we are alone... will you kiss me again?"

He watched, fascinated, as she chewed on her bottom lip with nervous teeth. She looked so innocent and childlike, he felt the unfamiliar tug of a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. This was something he had not counted on or even considered. His Angel wanting him to touch her... and his wanting her to touch him. Of course, it was a given in the situation, he had just simply not thought about it, considering his abhorrence to touch. However, when she touched him, he did not respond the same way he did when others tried.

He liked how her hands felt on his flesh. But even more so, he realized, he liked how her flesh felt beneath his hands. Perhaps the old modicum was true after all. Love really could heal even the deepest of sorrows.

Avoiding the question, he simply took her by the hand and led her away from the throng of people. "Come," he said. "It's cold. I should get you to the Inn where you will be warm." She nodded and tentatively took his offered hand.

"Does it always rain so much here?" She asked as the first spattering of moisture began to speckle her nose. "It isn't like this in Tokyo."

"We are closer to the ocean here..."

"Iie, you are not." She yanked him to a stop. "The ocean is just as close..."

"Perhaps you speak of Tokyo Bay... it is close to the city."

"Isn't that part of the ocean?"

"Technically," he raised his fine, dark brown eyebrows at her. "Not really. You have to travel out of the bay long before you reach the main body of the ocean..." Suddenly his face became a mask of serious contemplation. "I..." He paused, a feeling of extreme discomfort pooling in his belly, then he briefly caught her gaze. "I find myself in an embarrassing position, Angel." The grip on her hand tightened.

"Nani?" She asked, squeezing back.

"I do not know your name." He blushed, and looked away unable to meet her eyes at that point. "I... didn't ask you what it was... and I'm afraid I have never gleaned it from our... previous encounters. I have simply always called you 'My Angel'."

"Do you wish to know my name, Kenshin?" She reached out and turned his face back to her. "You have but to ask."

"Hai," he said, stroking her cheek with his free hand. "I do."

"Kaoru," she replied in a soft voice. "Kamiya Kaoru."

"Kaoru..." It slipped off his lips, sounding and feeling more like a mantra than her name. "Kaoru... it means, 'to smell fragrant'." His fingers traced her mouth briefly and fell away. "Perhaps you are more flower than angel, hai?" Her eyes took on a luminescent sheen and he was lost in the large bottomless depths for a moment. "Iie... you will always be my Angel, Kaoru... my salvation... my peace."

"And you are my Dark Angel, Kenshin. No matter what else you may be, you will always be that... always."

"And will you love me as such, Kaoru? For I may never be anything else but what you see. Can you love something so dark and... stained? Can you love The Battousai?" He said, his voice soft as a feather fall.

"Hai..." She wiped the wet, red hair off his forehead. "I can."

He bowed to her, honoring her simple vow and then led her home through the drizzle of the cold Spring rain. Dutifully, Kaoru followed several paces behind. All proprieties observed, they looked like an ordinary couple.

O.O

**_Koudou Isami-_**Captain of the Shinsengumi, **_Okita Soushi-_**Saitou's Lt. in the Shinsengumi squad. **_Kurogasa/Udoh Jinei-_**A manslayer inside the Shinsengumi, Hajime Saitou-Captain of the Fourth Squad of the Shinsengumi

**_Katanamochi_**–Sword Bearer, **_Kenbu--_**Sword Dance

_**Osaka-1866**_

The Shinsengumi Camp

"Are you certain, Captain?" Koudou Isami glared at the tall, slim man kneeling across from him in the small room. "It could have been someone else."

"Iie, Commander. The identification was positive. It was the assassin."

"In broad daylight... at the docks? It has to be a mistake."

"I assure you, sir, it was not a mistake." Hajime Saitou replied, taking a sip of the dish of sake his superior offered him. "Okita saw him for his self."

"With a woman?" Isami poured sake for himself. "That is too unusual not to be considered, Captain. The Battousai has never been seen with a woman before. He has never been seen at a Tea House or a Brothel... his own comrades think he's partial to boys, for Kami's sake." Isami shook his head. "I can't believe it. The Lieutenant must be mistaken."

"He was not." Saitou pushed the issue. "We are all familiar with his appearance now, since the _Ike Daya _Incident in '64. There was no mistaking the hair _and _the scar. It _was _him."

"Battousai has never been seen out in the open without at least three members of the Ishin flanking him and some sort of a disguise. You know this as well as I... yet, you say Lieutenant Soushi saw him at the docks, alone, meeting a woman... I'm sure you see my reasons for hesitation here, Captain. It goes against his very nature to be seen alone."

"Be that as it may, sir. He was alone, and with an unknown woman." A crafty element entered the Captain's harsh, narrow golden eyes. "A very beautiful woman, according to the Lieutenant. Long black hair, slender... but wearing gi and hakama instead of kimono. Rather odd, wouldn't you say?"

"Hai, that is quite odd." Isami pursed his lips and scratched his chin. If it was the Battousai, what would he be doing meeting a woman like that? It was beside the point that he was meeting a woman at all, but why... "Have you considered it wasn't a woman at all, Captain?"

"Sir?"

"Battousai passed himself off for a woman many times with his 'pretty face'. What is to say this is not another of Katsura's recruits for his assassin squads? Another shadow to melt into the crowd and disappear? Another 'pretty face' to be lost in the mist? Eh?"

"I hadn't thought of that..." Saitou frowned. It was a disturbing and very possible summation.

"Was Lieutenant Soushi close enough to determine any... ah, obvious female attributes on this so-called woman?"

"Iie, but he said the two were _very _friendly..." He offered a cocky grin.

"As in..."

"They kissed briefly."

"Hmm," Isami rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "That still doesn't give me enough proof that this person is a woman. If Battousai does, indeed, have a penchant for boys... he may be attracted to his new protege'."

Again, Saitou frowned. He hadn't thought of that either.

"There needs to more investigation, Captain. I want to know who this person is, and if he or she represents a threat to us."

"I will do what I can, sir, but we still have yet to discover where the Ishin is hiding the Battousai..."

"Okita had him in his line of vision and couldn't follow him far enough to gain that information?" Isami gritted his teeth and wrapped his hands into fists. Anger poured from his gut and radiated out his eyes. "The boy is incompetent beyond description..."

"He followed them as far as he could, Commandar..."

"And what happened? Battousai simply vanished into thin air? Eh?"

"Iie, he led the... the person through the market. Okita lost sight of them somewhere in the fish stalls."

"_Che_!" The delicate china of the sake dish shatter as Isami threw it against the lower, wooden edge of the _fusima_. "_Baka_! If I didn't think your whole damned squad would commit_sepuku_, I'd have that boy's head for this. I can't believe a man with hair the color of the Battousai's can simply disappear. Surely he stands out like a tiger in a chicken farm. For the love of the God's, isn't there anyone who can fine him?"

Saitou scratched his chin and then looked up into the angry face of his commander. "Maybe," he said, his tone deceptively calm. "There is one among our ranks whose stealth is almost, if not, equal to the Battousai. He might be who you want."

"You sound as if I might not like what you're about to tell me, Captain Hajime."

"You may not, sir, but if you are that bent on eliminating the assassin..."

"Who is he? Is he dangerous?"

"To everyone around him, including his own comrades."

"He... kills his own?" Isami's eyes narrowed and he took a drink from the sake bottle unawares he did so. "Where is he?"

"Still with his squad. No actual deaths have been linked to him, but there are many suspicions. He... he loves the thrill of the hunt and the rush of the kill. It is the smell of the blood... he has no soul for remorse. Death is what lives in his heart. He was made to hold a blade, but... he has loyalties to anything but the blade. He is a _Katanamochi _and knows only the _kenbu._"

"Will he respond to orders?"

"Hai, he will... but, what he does after, no one ever knows. As I said, we have suspicions."

"I see." It was a risk, Isami could see that, but getting rid of the assassin was necessary. He continued to cause devastating losses to their hierarchy and his chain of envoys grew thin. "What is his name?"

"_Udoh Jinei_."

"Send for him. I want him here by months end." Isami met the glittering amber gaze of his stalwart subordinate. "We will see the end of The Red Death, old friend. His time is nigh."

"Hai, Commander. It will be done."

"For the Emperor."

"For Japan."

Saitou walked out of the small apartment, breathed in deep, cold breath of the midmorning air, and pulled his turquoise gi a little closer over his chest. The end of the Battousai... he wasn't sure if that was what he wanted or not.

His mind traveled back to almost a year past, when on one dark, starless night, he met the assassin. Both were ragged, tired, and smelled of too much blood. Eyes bright with adrenalin met and locked across the narrow street, breaths harsh in the silence as both felt out the other's ki. Faces and clothing were lost in the shadows, but each knew whom they faced, the glint of blades flashing unnatural in the lightless dark.

The cry, the scream, flying feet, clashing swords: the bite of steel carving into the muscle of his upper arm and the burning pain that numbed his hand. Turn, sliding on the ground, sword up, running again. Another screaming cry, another flash, and then only the darkness surrounding him. His breath was rasping, his heart pounding. The first rush of fear he ever felt sang through his blood, and he spun, lifting his blade to parry an overhead attack. Sparks few as the second sword clashed and slid off his; golden eyes, burning coals in a face he couldn't see, looked death upon him, and then the sword disappeared. Silence engulfed him, and he waited.

"_Go home, bloody Wolf..." The voice floated out of the hellish black like a ghost on demon wings. "Go back to your pack of pups and be grateful you have your life."_

"_Too afraid to fight... Battousai?" He tried to bait the beast he knew was lurking in the world beyond his eyes. The beast that smelled of as much blood as he did. "Too afraid to fight you equal? Or... are you afraid I am your better, eh?"_

"_Better, Wolf?" Disembodied laughter greeted him, then that deafening silence once more. "Go back to your hole in the ground, cripple... leave me alone. I've had enough blood for one night. Haven't you?"_

"_Not if it's your blood, Assassin." His head was shifting side to side as the hollow voice moved around him. "Come, coward. Taste my blade."_

"_Iie," was the reply. "I have drawn first blood, Captain Wolf. When next I fight you, I want to see your face. I want to watch you die."_

"_Fight me now, you dishonorable wretch!"_

"_Fare thee well, Captain. Until we meet again... beneath the morning sun."_

Saitou had never achieved a second opportunity to cross blades with the red-headed maniac, and calling Jinei to Osaka to hunt him down may very well rid him of ever getting one. He pulled a cigarette case out of his gi. Smoking always seemed to calm him when his nerves became frazzled. It also helped him think.

He definitely needed to think. There had to be a way to call Jinei and get his duel with the Battousai at the same time. He would give the matter careful consideration before sending a message south for the hitokiri. There was much to plan before his arrival.

O.O

"And who is this, Himura-san?"

"This is Kamiya Kaoru, Okami-san." Kenshin politely bowed as he introduced Kaoru to the mistress of the inn where he stayed. "She is my... cousin." He lied.

"And... she will be staying with you?" Okami looked pointedly at the young man, watching him blush. "I don't have any vacant rooms, so she will have to stay with you in your room."

"I... ah... hai, Okami-san." He nodded, feeling Kaoru's wide, surprised eyes boring down upon him. "I know where the extra futons and linens are."

"Then you can get them."

"Hai." He skittered out of the room and left Kaoru to Okami's scrutinizing eyes. Kaoru clasped her hands nervously in front of her and picked a spot on the floor to stare at.

"You aren't really his cousin, are you?" The older woman, raised thin, black eye-brows at Kaoru before turning to inspect the pack the girl had brought with her. "You didn't bring very much with you. What on earth is this?" She asked, holding up the bokken. "A wooden sword?"

"Hai, Okami-san." Kaoru kept her voice quiet and demure. She had no idea what this woman was thinking or what she was going to do. "My father was a kendo instructor in Tokyo."

"And you?" Okami looked at the girl. "What are you?"

"The same." Kaoru lifted her chin slightly. "I inherited the dojo when he and my mother died several years ago. I have been teaching kendo to young students since then."

"A woman kendo instructor?" Okami looked skeptical. "In Tokyo?" She waved her hand in the air, dismissing Kaoru. "Not possible." She said. "You'd have been arrested or publically punished for such a thing..."

"Not true!" Kaoru blustered, her anger rising to the surface. "My father was a highly respected man in Tokyo. People accepted me because of him. They know I represent his legacy, and they bring me their sons to train in his martial art. The Kamiya Kassin is the most honorable of kendos. It teaches there is a better way to live than by killing. It is 'The Sword that protects', not kills. That's why I carry a wooden sword. I protect with it..."

"And you mean to be the lover of a hitokiri? The Battousai no less?" The woman was incredulous. "He has killed more men than any other man in all of Japan. His hands and soul are stained with more blood than you can imagine..."

"I know that." Kaoru's voice was stone hard.

"Yet, you come to him regardless."

"Hai, I come to him."

"Why? What did he offer you? Money? God's know, he probably has enough. Killing for the government. They take care of their own..."

"He has no money, and you know it." Kaoru's anger began to spill over into her usually calm demeanor. "They pay their soldiers with food and lodgings... what monies he has are a meager salary for his service. How dare you speak like that. He's a patriot."

Okami cast a sideways look at the girl; her cheeks were flushed, her fists clenched, her eyes glittering. "Protective of him, aren't you?" She asked, her voice much quieter, calmer. "Interesting..."

"What's so interesting about it?"

"What did he offer you, Kaoru?"

"Offer me?" Kaoru's anger dissolved and she looked at the woman, confused. "He didn't offer me anything. I came on my own."

"On your own?" It was Okami's turn to be confused. "What made you come?"

"Love." Kaoru said, her face softening. "I came for love. I can't explain it... but, that is what brought me here, and that is why I will stay. I love him."

"Even knowing what he is?" Her face became blank of expression.

"Hai."

"Hnn," Okami turned from the girl, looking across the large, empty room that served as the dining area. "Tell me, Kaoru, can you cook?"

"I can steam vegetables," she said, biting on a finger. "But I have a hard time with pretty much anything else."

"I see," Okami looked over her shoulder. "Do you know how to clean and wash laundry?"

"Hai."

"Then you can work off your room and board by helping me." Okami brushed imaginary wrinkles out of the front of her lavender kimono, and made to leave the room. "I expect you to be up every morning by dawn ready to help serve breakfast and then start cleaning. I have over twenty Chou Shu men living here, and it takes a lot of hard work to keep up after them... including your lover."

"H-hai, Okami-san." Kaoru bowed, watching the odd woman leave the room. She couldn't understand the strangeness of her behavior. One moment she was peevish and attacking her about being here with Kenshin, and the next... the next she was treating her kindly and telling her she could work for her for her room and board. Kaoru was more confused by this woman than she was by her feelings for the hitokiri. '_What are you about, Okami-san?' _She wondered, looking at the door the woman disappeared through. '_What didn't you tell me... what made you change your mind about me? Why is it so strange to you that I can love Kenshin? Do you care about him too...?'_

"Kaoru?"

The soft, tenor voice teased her senses and pulled her out of her contemplation of the Inn's mistress. Turning toward it, Kaoru found the object of emotions standing close, regarding her with worried eyes.

"Are you alright?" He asked.

"Hai," she nodded, reached out to take his hand. "Okami-san says I can work for her here... for my room and board. I'll be helping to serve meals and with the cleaning and laundry." She stepped closer to him and looked up into his expressionless face. "She knows I'm not your cousin."

"I know." He said. "She... sees most things for what they are."

"Does it... upset you?"

"Iie. I am more worried about how you will feel. You will be staying in my room with me... in an Inn full of men. I would not dishonor you in public, sweet Kaoru, but you are sleeping in my room." He was worried, fearful. She could feel it.

"But I'm not sleeping with you, Kenshin. You aren't dishonoring ME."

"They do not know that."

His words hit her like ice, and Okami's words came back to her. "Okami thinks I am here to be your lover. She said the words to me."

"'Lover' can mean many things, Kaoru." He tenderly pulled her from the room, into a narrow hallway, and then up an even narrower stairway. "You are the 'lover' of my soul, _saiai_, the 'lover' of my spirit, the 'lover' of my sanity." They entered his room where two futons lay on the floor, several feet separating them. "But most of all, you are the 'lover' of my true self. I cannot live without you... not now. Not now that I have finally seen you with these eyes and held you with these arms."

"Kenshin..." Kaoru choked on a sob of emotion and wrapped her arms around his waist, her head pillowed on his shoulder. "I don't think I could live without you now either."

"Then, can you bear up under what these men will think of us?" He stroked her back, trying to calm her. "It will not be spoken in the streets. They will keep 'my personal life' as secret as they guard my life. No one else will know you are here with me... yet... perhaps..." He stopped and stood very still.

"Nani, Kenshin? What are you thinking?" Kaoru leaned back and rested her hands on his chest. "Perhaps what?"

"My honor demands I not dishonor you, Kaoru." He bent into her and rested his forehead on hers. "I cannot bear to know you will be thought of as a whore. Not when I know you are purity itself."

"But Okami-san has no other rooms, Kenshin. How..."

"I'll be right back." He said, hugging her and then leaving the room.

Kaoru stood in the middle of the room bewildered, wondering what he could possibly be doing. Absently she wandered over to the single window, pushing it open she looked outside at the view. A squeak of alarm and fear burst out of her mouth and she fell back, landing hard on the floor. Pain erupted up her spine and her teeth snapped shut with the impact, but she hardly noticed either as the vision she'd seen seared through her brain.

'_Holy God! Did I just see... No! It can't be... It can't... Oh God, Kenshin!'_

"Kaoru!" Kenshin rushed through the door, leaning the folding screen he carried up against the wall as he did. "What happened?" He knelt down beside her, wiping the wetness of tears of her pale cheeks. "Kaoru?"

"I... I saw..." She looked into the pinched features of his face, trying to mouth the words lodged in her mind and throat, but they wouldn't come free. All she could do was blink and shake, her body trembling as if she were freezing in the midst of a furious blizzard. "I...Ken..."

The fear in her eyes was devastating, and it slammed into his soul with a force that nearly doubled him over. Glancing around the room, he saw the window was open. A shiver passed through his body as he recalled the last time he saw the shutters hanging open. _Okaa-san..._

"What did you see, Kaoru?" He tried to sound gentle, but the urgency in his voice belied his state. "Can you tell me?" It was a terrible effort to pull his gaze from the window and focus on her face. "Did you open the window?" She nodded, and swallowed hard. "Then you looked out? Hai?" Again she nodded. "And you saw something that frightened you."

Kenshin gritted his teeth and cupped her face. "I am not leaving you," he said firmly. "But I am going to go look out the window." Kaoru grabbed at his wrist, shaking her head frantically. "I will be fine," he tried to reassure her. "I must go, Kaoru." He pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek and stood up.

It was only a few steps to the open window, and Kenshin took them slowly, deliberately, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana. One deep breath and he leaned over the edge and looked out onto the surrounding rooftops and down into the busy street. '_What did you see, saiai?' _He looked right, left, and ahead, seeing nothing.

"She was standing in the middle of the street, Kenshin." Kaoru's voice was weak, small, and terrified behind him. "I saw her... the way Shinta sees her... your Okaasan. I saw her, dead and rotting. She was looking at me and she held her hand out, like she wanted me to do something."

Kenshin turned from window, staring at Kaoru with horrified eyes. "You... you saw her?"

"Hai," Kaoru tried to wipe the constant flow of tears off her face. "There was a reddish light glowing around her... like a bloody halo. It was awful. It was just like Shinta told me... she was moldering with worms and rotted flesh." Her final words choked off as she started to sob. "I s-saw her... Oh God... I saw her."

"No!" He screamed, leaping to where she sat on the floor, grabbing her up into his arms, burying his face in the satin of her hair. "No! You can't have her!" He rasped, his heart thundering with fury and panic. "I won't let you have her! Do you hear me?" He raised he face to the ceiling, his golden eyes fierce. "I won't let you take her from me... I'll die first!"

Kaoru gripped his back, her hands fisting into the material of his gi, holding onto his strength, pulling him into her. Their pain became one, and she cried with him, for him, for herself. The image of that beckoning hand flaunted itself before her, and she cringed from it, pushing her head into the curve of his neck and shoulder, hiding from the horror, the fear... the promise. He would protect her. He would...

"Ken-shin..."

"I won't let her have you, Kaoru," he sobbed. "I swear it."

She felt him holding her, pulling her even closer, and then he eased her away, his hands on her face.

"Kaoru!"

She knew what he saw. It couldn't be helped. His pain was part of her soul, his tears part of her heart. His tears were her tears.

Blood welled up from her tragic eyes, smeared the perfect porcelain of her skin and his neck. It stained his hands as he held her, oozing between his fingers, dripping onto her gi and his hakama.

"What-what is this?" He sounded as terrified as any child. "What is happening?"

"Pain, beloved." She raised a hand to her own face and watched it come away bloody. "Your pain... your tears."

"Oh God's..." So this was where his pain went when he let it loose from his control. "Forgive... forgive..." He cradled her in his arms, her head nestled against his chest, his cheek pressed into her nape. "I didn't know. I didn't..." He kissed her neck and closed his eyes. "You have borne so much for me, my Angel. So much, and still all I have offered you is more pain, more suffering. I cannot let you stay, Kaoru. Not now... I can't..."

"What do you mean, you can't let me stay?" Her hands tightened their grip on his clothes. "I'm not leaving. I won't! I belong here with you. We belong together. I won't let you send me away. Not ever!"

"Kaoru..." If he never wished before that he could cry, he did now. But his eyes remained dry. She continued to cry, hanging on to him for the life preserver he was.

She cried for both of them.

O.O

_It hovered outside the window, the rotted flesh of it's face twisted into a malformed, ghoulish smile, showing broken, gray-green teeth. Yellow eyes, gleaming with maniacal joy, watched the young couple embracing on the floor. Everything was going precisely as planned, and soon all would be as it should._

_Garbled laughter slipped through beetle holes inside the windpipe and passed flaps of decayed skin, sounding more like the rasping of corn husks in an autumn breeze. Dead strings of old brownish-red hair swung haphazard around the insubstantial remnants of a green and pink kimono, the darker green obi a tatter of threads. _

'_Beware, woman...' it's horrible mouth spoke, the words fading into nothingness as they fell from parched and withered lips. 'He belongs to me, forever... and the time has come for him to return to my arms, for that is where he truly belongs. You may keep him for a time, but I will not let you enjoy him but for an instant... _

_...only an instant..."_

_TBC_


End file.
